


Riddle of the Gryphon

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [42]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Recreational Potions, drug bust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-06-26 23:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Forced into gryphon shape and shot with a cursed bullet, Greg’s stuck in his Animagus form until his injuries heal.  Meanwhile, Team One, temporarily under Ed’s leadership, takes a magic-side hot call that lands them in the seedy underbelly of recreational potions.





	1. A Guilt Observed

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the forty-second in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Shadow of the Hawke".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

Four days. Four days since his team had been attacked in their cells by a group of dangerous fugitives, since Wordy’s back had been sliced up by his vicious half-brothers, and since Greg himself had been forced into his Animagus form, which had promptly come within a hairsbreadth of dining on his own team. Starting with an already injured Wordy.

His nightmares featured the events after his forced transformation in glorious Technicolor, complete with the utter _hopelessness_ on his constable’s face as he’d advanced, practically drooling for fresh meat. That was the worst part. Greg could _remember_ how he’d felt as he moved in on his teammate and friend, could _remember_ how his gryphon side hadn’t even been willing to differentiate between male and female human, much less treat them with respect.

Sure, his gryphon side had stopped once it realized Wordy was Pride…or was that Flock? But respect? Hah! His gryphon side had seen his team as helpless and weak, not as the capable officers Greg knew they were. If it had been up to his gryphon side, Ed and the rest would have stayed in the cell block, which meant Ed never would have ended Moffet’s rampage.

Not that he really remembered that part…

* * * * *

_He snarl-hissed at the flying metal bird, demanding that it come down and fight him. As it turned, a human with a burnt amber sheen around it appeared, its hands coming down on the metal bird as it yelled words he couldn’t understand._

_Darkness lashed out, sending the human tumbling out of the sky, straight towards him. There wasn’t time to leap aside before the human hit him. Magic roared and he squalled, trying to get away. But the magic held him fast, locking his muscles in place as_ his _magic flowed back into him, stronger than the last time he had felt it. The human yelled, launching something golden skyward, but he didn’t truly hear it as the magic swirled, settling into bone and blood, flesh and fur. As the last of it sank home, he felt something bubbling under the surface of his mind. He squalled again, straining to stop whatever it was, then he collapsed under the weight of his own mind and soul, gasping for air as he regained his human awareness. His conscience. For a second, he simply laid there, getting his breath back and wondering how he’d gotten from the cell block to McKean’s landing pad. Then memory crashed down and he fled, leaving his team to deal with the aftermath of Moffet’s second attack on McKean._

* * * * *

He still couldn’t believe what he’d _done_ , couldn’t trust _himself_ after his own actions, but Wordy had pulled him out of the darkness he’d been sinking into, grabbing hold and refusing to let Greg drown in self-hatred. The rest of his team had pitched in too, coming up with several rather creative ways to interpret their Sergeant’s animal vocabulary and refusing to let Greg sulk once Wordy had coaxed him out of the room he’d initially fled to.

Madame Locksley, realizing that Greg could hardly go _home_ while he was still trapped in gryphon form, had offered up her own family’s estate as a place to stay until a Healer trained in healing magical animals could travel to Toronto. Greg had, therefore, been present as Locksley finally introduced her nephew to her daughter.

* * * * *

 _Sam’s expression was wary, uncertain, and braced for the worst. Greg positioned himself next to his constable, deliberately lying so that his shoulder brushed Sam’s shin and his head was in just the right spot for Sam to pet him. While it had felt extremely…odd…the first few times, Parker had come to accept that there were simply different rules now that he was an animal. It didn’t hurt that the petting was actually rather pleasant, though he suspected his team was having a much harder time with the idea than_ he _was._

_The sound of footsteps brought both sniper and gryphon’s heads up. Madame Locksley appeared first, shepherding a girl with long blonde hair into the room and to a comfortable seat. The girl refused to look up at her guests and Greg felt Sam’s hurt sting against the restored ‘team sense’. But something was wrong; Greg could smell the girl and she smelt of shame and fear, not scorn or disdain. The gryphon rose to his feet and padded closer to the couch, trilling inquiry._

_Startled, the girl looked up and both officers froze. Scars marked her face, large and cruel; scars from being staked out under the hot desert sun and left until she was almost dead of thirst. Sam swallowed hard as he understood; he was looking at another one of Moffet’s victims. “Hi,” he managed, “I’m Sam Braddock.”_

_Incredibly, her face brightened. “Sam Braddock?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“The goblin who found me asked if I was related to you,” the young witch confided shyly. “Am I?”_

_The gryphon churred in laughter and Sam chuckled quietly. “I think we are.” Looking up at Madame Locksley, Sam added, “I’m your cousin…”_

_“Oh!” Embarrassment lit her scars up like fire and she ducked her head again. “I’m Jane. Jane Locksley,” she admitted from behind her hair._

_Sam pushed himself up from his chair and walked right up to Jane, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Jane.”_

_Confusion shone on Jane’s face until her mother whispered to her, then she reached up and tentatively shook Sam’s hand. Then her eyes dropped to Greg, who’d followed Sam’s movement and now sat at his constable’s side, his tail curled around his paws and talons; he resisted the urge to preen and stayed focused on the cousins. “Is that a griffin?”_

_“Yes. No. Kinda,” Sam fumbled. Jane gave him a bewildered look and Greg squawked a chortle. “Um…” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “This is my Sarge, Greg Parker.” Parker bowed his head and purr-thrummed a greeting. “He got forced into his Animagus form, so…”_

_Madame Locksley stepped in smoothly. “Sergeant Parker will be staying on the estate until the injuries he sustained in his form can be treated,” she informed her daughter._

_Jane’s expression as she regarded the gryphon was wary and very uncertain. “Is he safe?”_

_Greg winced, but Sam’s voice steadied and turned unshakably confident. “He’s good,” the sniper told his cousin firmly. “You can trust him with your life, Jane. I know I do.”_

* * * * *

Idly, Greg checked his wings and tail over, preening askew feathers back into place and tugging one loose feather free. Much as he tried to keep his gryphon instincts down, as long as he was trapped in his Animagus form, he couldn’t suppress _all_ of them. Nor could he avoid the fact that he _was_ currently a meat-eater, a fact that had been driven home when the Locksley house-elves refused to serve him any meals inside the house.

* * * * *

_Greg was a bit surprised when Jane tentatively invited her cousin to stay for dinner, an invitation Sam accepted without a qualm. Once the ice was broken, Sam worked on drawing Jane out of her shell, ignoring her scars with a skill that made his Sergeant glow with pride. The sniper would never be a negotiator like himself or Jules, but Sam definitely had his own flare and plenty of empathy towards those who were scarred, either emotionally or physically. He’d come a long way from the uptight, impatient rookie who favored going tactical and still sported a chip on his shoulder from his friendly fire incident._

_When the group entered the dining room, Greg immediately noticed that only three places were set at the table and resigned himself to waiting for his own meal. Sam, however, stopped in his tracks, confusion in his voice as he asked, “Where’s the spot for Sarge?”_

_Madame Locksley looked embarrassed. “My house-elves refuse to serve raw meat at the table, Constable Braddock.”_

_Sam flicked a look at her. “Thought it was ‘Sam’,” he corrected, right before he went on the offensive. “And what does raw meat have to do with anything?”_

_Jane cleared her throat, drawing Sam’s gaze while Greg wished himself under the nearest rock. “Griffins are meat-eaters, Sam,” she explained politely. “Our elves don’t want to clean up the mess.”_

_Blue eyes narrowed, but Greg just slunk under the table, thoroughly embarrassed and well aware that his last few meals had ended with bits of meat and blood scattered all over the ground; gryphons, like most meat-eaters, had no table manners to speak of._

* * * * *

Done with the preening, Greg shifted to a standing position and spread his wings out as far as they would go, flapping them hard and ignoring the slight throb of pain from his right wing. No, he would never fly…and didn’t _want_ to fly anyway…but he couldn’t shake the conviction that, crippled or not, he should exercise his wings and keep the muscles limber. Another few feathers shook themselves loose as he exercised and the Sergeant retrieved them once he was done. If nothing else, the feathers might make nice souvenirs once he was back to being human.

Carefully, Greg worked his injured wing around to inspect the gunshot wound; the injury was smaller and hurt much less, a vast improvement over how it had felt _before_ the Healer had visited. Of course, the Healer’s visit had been an experience all its own.

* * * * *

_From what Ed had said on his last visit, Holleran had assigned Eddie as acting Sergeant for Team One until Greg could come back, a move Greg quietly approved of; it would make his plans easier to implement. Ed hadn’t mentioned who was acting team leader and Parker, obviously, couldn’t ask._

_Left alone by both the Locksleys and their house-elves, Greg ranged around the estate’s gardens and outdoor architecture, trying to keep himself busy and get used to his gryphon form. In truth, he was hoping that he’d never get stuck in his Animagus form again, but he needed_ something _to do and ‘training’ was as good as anything else. Better, because the training let him ignore, for a little while, the increasing amounts of pain coming from his right wing._

_He’d just scrambled up a decent sized rock when the house-elf appeared, twisting its ears nervously as he leapt back off the rock and trilled a question. “Mistress is being in the front garden with Healer,” the elf reported. “Handon can be showing you, ifin yous wish.”_

_Greg inclined his head and padded after the elf as he was led to the front of the estate where a Healer was standing next to Madame Locksley. Even from a good dozen meters away, Greg heard the exact moment he was spotted by the wizard._

_“Madame, that griffin is_ loose _,” the Healer exclaimed, alarm in his voice._

_Locksley sounded amused. “Believe me, the griffin is not a threat, Healer Reynold. He’s been a perfect gentleman these past two days.”_

_Parker snorted a laugh as he moved around the house-elf and bounded towards the two wizards, half-spreading his wings as he ran for better balance. When he got close, he decided to show off and pushed off in a jump to land neatly in front of the pair, his wings snapping back together on his back as he landed, paws and foretalons close together. After a moment, he relaxed, shifting his paws to stand at ease as he inspected the Healer from head to toe._

_The wizard’s skin was swarthy with long hours under the hot sun and he wore robes that were cut generously for ease of movement and easy clean-up. A wizarding world veterinarian, Greg would bet a month’s salary on it. His black hair was going gray on the edges and brown eyes were inspecting Greg in turn. The most curious thing, from Greg’s point of view, was the swirl of the man’s magic over his skin and robes. It was a forestry brown that reminded Greg of woodland animals, with a hint of the more exotic around the edges._

_Parker still hadn’t gotten used to actually_ seeing _others’ magic and it had stunned him when he’d finally realized it_ was _magic he was seeing. Even the most magic-less members of his team had sheens of light around them to his vision, a phenomenon he intended to ask about once he was back to normal. Though he already had a theory that it had something to do with his_ nipotes _and their Wild Magic._

_Reynold cleared his throat, still looking uncomfortable with the gryphon’s freedom. “Well, now,” he stumbled, “Now that my patient is present, shall we begin?” Without waiting for a reply, the wizard flourished his wand and cast a spell._

_Greg snarl-hissed as he was paralyzed, his body slumping to the ground. Instinctively, he fought the magic, straining to move. In the background, he heard Madame Locksley shout something, then the spell evaporated and the gryphon rolled back to his feet, backing away from the Healer fearfully._

_The wizard was indignant. “You can’t expect me to treat a griffin without the proper precautions, now can you?” he demanded of Madame Locksley._

_“He won’t hurt you,” Locksley retorted angrily. She stepped towards Greg, extending one hand and gesturing him closer. It took a moment, then the wary gryphon padded forward and let Locksley smooth down his bristling feathers. It took a minute, but Greg relaxed, letting out a soft **squrr** as the witch tossed the Healer a superior look._

_“Don’t restrain him,” Locksley ordered. “He’s had quite enough of that lately, Healer Reynold. He won’t fight you, my word on that.”_

_Parker added his own rumble-trill of promise, swishing his tail and tucking his hindquarters close as he sat, careful to keep his talons curled and his lion claws sheathed. The Healer edged closer, watching Greg’s beak and shoulders closely before he cautiously pulled the Sergeant’s right wing out to examine it. He clucked at the deformity, then zeroed in on the gunshot wound. It had been treated at McKean, to clean out the bullet residue and keep infection minimal, but Greg suspected it was infected nonetheless._

_The next two hours were painful and grueling as the Healer cleaned the injury out again and slathered on potions to deal with the infection and lingering dark magic. Greg restrained his responses to soft screech-growls and winces as Reynold worked, his tail lashing involuntarily at the more painful prods and touches. When the Healer was done, Greg was relieved to note that the bandage was fairly small. Even better, the magic on the bandage meant that he didn’t have to worry about accidentally dislodging it._

_“Well, I must say, ma’am, this is the best behaved griffin I’ve ever encountered,” Healer Reynold remarked. “Most wild animals would savage me for even a fifth of what I’ve put your griffin through.”_

_Parker tilted his head, surprised. Didn’t the Healer know he was an Animagus? Or at least the Squib-born version thereof? Locksley graciously thanked the Healer and guided him away without correcting his assumptions._

* * * * *

“It won’t heal any faster, you know,” a young female voice observed.

Greg snapped around, his wings ruffling before they folded back into place. Jane Locksley settled herself on a nearby bench, watching him as closely as the Healer had. Parker padded closer, but stopped well short of the bench, tilting his head to the side as he studied the witch and her magic, a blue as pale as her eyes with the life and vitality of an ambitious, bright young woman to it. Though much of her spirit was still recovering from Moffet’s actions, her magic spoke to her ability to recover and become the stronger for her experience.

“Mother says you’re a Squib,” Jane remarked quietly. “And that your team beat her best Aurors in a competition a couple years ago. I remember that; I told her you would.”

Parker trilled a low chuckle.

The witch smiled briefly, propping her chin on her leg as her eyes went distant with memory and pain. “I dream about it, you know,” she whispered. “I dream that I’m still out there and _he’s_ laughing, saying that Mother should’ve known not to try and trick him.” She stared at the ground, guilt in her eyes. “It’s ‘cause of _me_ that Mother did what she did.”

Greg edged closer, tilting his head in a listening attitude.

Jane sniffled. “After Mother found her brother and, um, Sam, she wanted me to meet my cousin, but Father said ‘no’. He’s very old-fashioned, like my grandparents.”

The Sergeant reared back, confused. He hadn’t met Mr. Locksley yet…or was the male Locksley a lord? Even so, the gryphon snuck one step closer, waiting patiently for the rest.

“Well, he’s not so old-fashioned now,” Jane hissed resentfully. “Ran off with a witch young enough to be my _sister_. Broke Mother’s heart and he hasn’t written at all since he left. Mother asked me if I wanted to meet my cousin, but I wasn’t sure. Then, on my way home from work, someone grabbed me from behind and well, I think you can guess the rest, Sergeant Parker.”

Indeed he could. Greg nuzzled at her, trying to communicate that he didn’t blame her and he didn’t think Sam blamed her either. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been used as a pawn against her mother, against his team. Jane wrapped her arms around his head and neck, crying for the loss of her father, the loss of her innocence, and for the chain of events her kidnapping had kicked off.

Greg let her cry against his feathers and his fur, silently urging her to let the poison out. Guilt. They were both living with it and for events that they’d had no control over. She’d been imprisoned by Moffet, while _he’d_ been imprisoned by his Animagus form. Jane Locksley would survive her guilt, he knew. Himself, he wasn’t so sure about. Because every time he closed his eyes, every time he dreamed, he was back there, too.

And he had no idea how he was supposed to move on when he didn’t know if he could keep it from happening again.


	2. Potion Dealers

Ed grumbled under his breath as he worked through the paperwork a far too cheerful Commander Holleran had dumped on him. On the plus side, Team One and Team Three were officially back to being both cops and Aurors; the break had been nice, but Ed had found himself missing the magic-side calls as time went on. Also on the plus side, Holleran had kept Toth from finding out about his team’s arrest, although it had been a shock to find out that Toth’s hovering had actually come in handy after all.

Team Four was still reeling after the discovery that their bomb tech had been a no-good, rotten traitor. They were scheduled to start looking for a replacement soon, but Ed still regretted the lost opportunity. He’d had _plans_ for the scum who’d put that runic bracelet on his best friend and helped frame his entire team. Ah well, at least neither the bomb tech nor Moffet would ever do anything to Team One again.

Poor Troy, when he’d noticed Greg’s absence, had literally _blanched_ , babbling apologies almost too fast to understand; it had taken nearly two hours to calm Team Four’s Sergeant down enough to tell him Greg was just injured, not dead. Though questions had glittered in Troy’s eyes, he hadn’t asked any of them, leaving Ed to wonder if the Sergeant hadn’t worked a few things out. He _had_ been Team Three’s Sergeant the day Danny Rangford had barricaded himself in the briefing room; he could have seen the kids’ Animagus forms that day and reasoned out the rest. Not to mention all the speculative gossip concerning Team One’s and now Team Three’s ‘classified’ calls.

“Still working on the paperwork, Ed?”

Ed looked up at his acting team leader’s tease, grinning back at Wordy. “You in here to harass me about my workout?” he returned, a sparkle in his eyes. How many times had _he_ done the exact same thing to Greg himself?

Wordy laughed outright and grabbed a chair, swinging it over and plopping down. “Well,” he teased, “It _is_ my job to keep my acting Sergeant on track. And you _have_ been in here a while.” Ed laughed as the brunet leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

The acting Sergeant signed another form, adding it to his ‘done’ stack. “What’s up, Word?”

“Why me?” Wordy questioned. “And not Sam?”

Ah. Ed had been wondering when either Wordy or Sam would ask. He rubbed his head, wondering how to explain, how much he should share. Finally, he met Wordy’s eyes and explained bluntly, “Because you’re following SRU policy.” _And he’s not._

Wordy froze. He looked over his shoulder, then back at Ed to mouth, ‘Jules and Sam?’.

Ed nodded once.

Stunned, Wordy slumped down in his chair, his sleeve slipping enough to reveal an angled white scar around his forearm. Ed kept his eyes away from the scar, though he winced internally. The wounds Wordy had acquired in McKean had left permanent scars, even after Sarge’s little stunt had mixed Sam and Wordy’s magic together to heal the worst of the damage. Ed was _not_ looking forward to dealing with the Greg Parker guilt trip over the McKean attack, but it would have to be done. With any luck, Lance would beat him to the punch; the kid _did_ have a gryphon Animagus form of his own, he might understand where Greg was coming from more than Ed did.

“What do we do?” Wordy hissed in an undertone.

A sad shake of the head. “We can’t stop ‘em, Wordy,” Ed admitted regretfully. “They’ll just find better ways to hide it. But I’m not making Sam team leader, not now.” Wordy nodded silently. “He knows I know, knows I’m not happy with either of them, but Word, if we spill, then Sarge goes down with ‘em.”

Wordy hissed in shock. “Do they _know_?”

Ed snorted. “Do they _care_?” he countered angrily. “They know regs just as well as we do, but they want to have their cake and eat it, too. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d make ‘em ride the bench until Sarge is back, but that’ll tip Toth off.”

Wordy’s eyes were troubled. “Does Sarge know?”

A shrug. “Don’t know,” Ed confessed. “I think he suspects, but if he doesn’t know for sure, he doesn’t have to break up the team.” Ed left out a few other private suspicions of his. Namely, that Greg hadn’t wanted to rock his team any more than the disastrous evaluations had, particularly once Toth had put them on probation, and that Greg’s confidence had been shaken to its core by the evaluations and the McKean disaster.

For several minutes, the two men sat there, though Ed returned to the paperwork, determined to have it done as soon as possible; he was now officially envious of his Sergeant’s ability to plow through the mountains of white paper on a daily basis and still have time for a workout – most days anyway. As Ed’s signature looped across another form, Wordy sighed heavily, drawing his best friend’s head up.

“They know better,” Wordy growled.

“Yeah, they do,” Ed agreed at once.

The brunet pushed himself up. “I think I know two constables who need a refresher course on their hand-to-hand takedowns. And maybe a few extra refreshers for the next couple of workouts.”

“Don’t go too far,” Ed cautioned. “We’re already a man down, Wordy.”

“Copy.” Wordy stalked out of the briefing room with a thundercloud on his face and a snap to his stride. Ed smirked to himself. Official punishment was out of the question, but unofficial? He wasn’t going to argue or interfere.

Briefly, the acting Sergeant checked his stack and realized he was finally getting close to the bottom. _It’s about time._

* * * * *

Ed had just turned in his stack of white torture…err…paperwork…to Winnie when he spied Detective Onasi coming in the front door. From what little Ed had picked up from Roy, the two detectives had managed to slide back into a normal routine, though Sergeant Gamboli hadn’t been impressed to find out that Roy had come out of his ‘coma’, but no one had notified him.

Gamboli had insisted on chaining Roy to his desk until he obtained a full medical clearance, so Onasi was operating solo until Dr. Travis could get Roy’s medical put together, a process that would take another few days, but was still much better than the alternative. The detective came right over to Ed, a cautious expression on his face.

“What do we got?” Ed asked, getting right down to business.

“In the briefing room?” Onasi requested.

“Sure thing,” Ed agreed, heading back into the briefing room. Once inside, he turned and arched a brow.

The Auror fidgeted, then awkwardly, “Look, um, I know Parker’s not back yet, but…”

“Hot call?” Ed pressed.

“Um…more like a…” Onasi tilted his head, clearly searching for the right word. “…warrant?”

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “I know you have warrants in the wizarding world, Giles, so why the fumble?”

Brown eyes dropped to the floor. “Aurors don’t need a warrant, just a suspicion if they’re dealing with repeat offenders,” he explained to the tile.

Ed snorted. “So, you want help executing a warrant?”

A nod and Giles looked up again. “It won’t be just Team One; the Auror Squad has the lead on this one, but they’re worried they don’t have enough manpower to make a clean sweep.”

“Got it,” Ed acknowledged. “Give me a sec to round up my team, then you can give us the brief.”

A faint smile. “Copy.”

* * * * *

Jules was relieved to be in the briefing room instead of the workout room; _something_ had ticked Wordy off big time and he was taking it out on her and Sam. And after Sam’s tale of Ed’s not so subtle threat, she knew she couldn’t complain to _him_. She might complain to Sarge, though, when he came back. Or maybe not…she wasn’t blind, she knew Sarge had taken the psych eval results and Toth’s scathing criticisms to heart. He needed support, not a few complaints about her teammates.

Onasi was milling around the front of the room, looking slightly uncertain, but Ed led off the brief with a brisk, business-like, “We’ve got a magic-side warrant.”

Warrant? Jules perked up; their team had never been called in as backup on a high-risk magic-side warrant before…apparently that was about to change. Auror Onasi nodded agreement with Ed’s statement, then turned his attention to Spike. “Scarlatti, when you were researching potions, did you run across any of the recreational potions?”

Spike whistled low. “Sure did,” he confirmed. Looking to his team, he explained, “They’re the wizarding equivalent of illegal drugs.”

“So,” Lou reasoned out, “We’re going after magical drug dealers?”

“Precisely,” Onasi acknowledged, turning his attention back to the rest of the team. “The Auror Squad’s had their eye on one of Toronto’s major players in the recreational potion scene for a while, but it’s taken this long to put a solid case together against the whole crew.”

“You guys need help with the arrests?” Wordy asked.

The Auror reached into his dragonhide jacket and pulled out what looked like a map. Jules, Spike, and Wordy rolled their chairs out of the way and Giles spread the map out on the briefing table. Team One grouped around and Jules whistled. “Your subjects are holed up in the forest preserve?”

“According to our undercover, yes, they are,” Giles replied quietly. “They’re sitting on a large batch of potions and brewing a few final ones, then they plan to ship them all over the country to their street dealers. Our undercover says there’s about twenty wizards, all told, out there to wrap up the next few months’ worth of orders, then they’ll scatter and go underground until the demand builds up again.”

Spike’s eyes lit up. “So, we’re cutting ‘em off at the pass and keeping the potions from getting shipped out?” At the Auror’s nod, he grinned, rubbing his hands together. “What’s our plan?”

Onasi quickly traced out the Auror Squad’s positions. “Simmons wanted your ideas on tactics, so he’s only got a rough plan right now,” the Auror explained.

Ed leaned over the map, his expression thoughtful. “What if we pull something like what we did with Watson?” he suggested. “Pair the Aurors up with constables and go from there?”

Jules frowned. “We’re a man down,” she reminded Ed. “And the Auror Squad runs with eight people, not seven.”

Sam disagreed with her underlying argument. “Then the two spare wizards can pair with each other,” he opined. “I like Ed’s idea, puts magic and tech in almost every group; we can play to each other’s strengths better. It worked with Watson’s crew.”

“The Auror Squad _is_ used to swapping up partners on the run,” Giles offered tentatively.

“Watson’s crew wasn’t wizards,” Jules pointed out.

Wordy’s eyes narrowed, then he countered, “It can still work, Jules. If the subjects are distracted by dueling, we can get in close for a takedown. Or toss a grenade in the mix.”

Jules debated her teammates’ arguments, then nodded slowly. “Catch the subjects off guard by mixing tactics. I buy that.”

Spike chewed his lip a moment. “Giles, did your undercover tell you _which_ potions they were brewing?”

“No,” Onasi informed the tech, “They’re deep undercover, so that they sent a message out at all means they’re ready to wrap this up and come in.”

“Spike?” Lou asked, seeing Spike’s anxious expression.

The bomb tech raked a hand through his hair, then looked up at Ed. “If this is where they’re brewing all this stuff, then we’re looking at a meth lab scenario.”

The team blanched. “Assume the worst,” Ed breathed. “One spark and it all goes up.”

Spike nodded unhappily. “Our guns are good, Ed; that’s one thing the goblins worked out when they were modifying Babycakes and working with the Auror Division on the silver bullet magazines. We could let off a full magazine in a meth lab and _not_ send it sky high, but that doesn’t apply to the rest of our gear.”

Leaning forward, Sam cleared his throat. “Spike, what about mine and Ed’s sidearms? They haven’t been modified, have they?”

“You and Ed will have to stick to submachine guns or go for your sniper rifles,” Spike confirmed. “There hasn’t been time to get your new sidearms modified.” His expression turned thoughtful. “I guess you could swap with Team Three’s guns, but…”

Ed shook his head. “No, we can deal,” he reassured Spike. “Let’s not borrow trouble by making things too complicated.” His eyes swept to the whole team. “And speaking _of_ trouble, gear up. Armor instead of uniforms for this one, copy?”

Team One scattered, heading for the locker room as Ed dispatched Giles to let Simmons’ squad know the plan.

* * * * *

Two SRU trucks and the Command Truck pulled up at the rally location. Their lights flashed, but no sirens wailed. Ed hit the ground first, letting Wordy round the team up and pass out initial assignments as he made his way over to Simmons. The blond Auror’s expression was rather sour, but, for once, Ed suspected it wasn’t directed at him or his team.

“What do we got?” Ed questioned as soon as he was close.

“A bloody mess,” Simmons growled. “After I sent Giles over to get you lot, we got an emergency message from our undercover. A Muggle family just about tripped over the potioneers’ camp an hour ago.”

“Are they still alive?” Ed demanded.

A shake of the head. “Don’t know, but I’m assuming they are. We have to go in as fast as possible, Lane.”

“Copy,” Ed agreed. “Have you got the pairs set up?”

“Yea, got that much done at least,” Simmons replied, pulling out a sheet of parchment. “If you don’t have a problem with it, Lane, you’re with me.”

“No problem here,” Ed acknowledged. “One sec.”

“Sure.”

Ed reached down and keyed his comm. “Team One, new deal; get ready to deploy. Partner up on the fly, subjects have taken a family hostage.”

Behind him, the rest of Team One stilled, then they flew into action, yanking gear from the trucks and finishing the last of the prep work as quickly as possible. Simmons called his own squad over, assigning partners and issuing final orders. Within five minutes, the combined teams were ready to go.

* * * * *

The first part of the operation went so smoothly that Jules couldn’t help but tense up, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her Auror backup was just as antsy as they cornered another wizard and slapped a zip-tie on his wrists. Over the comm, Jules could hear her teammates as they arrested wizard after wizard without much, if any, resistance. Glancing back, she questioned, “Shouldn’t these guys be fighting back?”

The Auror, black-haired with pink streaks in her hair, nodded. “Yeah, they should be. It’s almost like they were waiting for us, but they shouldn’t have known we were coming.”

Jules ducked around another corner, her frown deeper. “There aren’t that many potions here, either. Giles told us your undercover claimed there was months’ worth of potions stockpiled.”

Light blue, almost crystalline eyes surveyed the contents of the wizarding tent. “You’re right, there _should_ be more here.”

She would have said more, but Jules held up a hand, then signaled to their right. The two Aurors crept forward, edging down a hallway that could have come right out of a regular building, not a wizarding tent. Jules felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, right before a spell crackled down the hallway, sending both Aurors diving for cover. Jules’ partner immediately returned fire as another sound reached Jules’ ears: a child crying.

Jules stayed out of the fight, taking advantage of the hallway’s cover to edge forward, watching for the subject wizard as she moved. The spells flying back and forth grew more intense, the crying grew louder, then Jules was close enough to pull a trick of her own. Reaching down, Jules yanked a goblin-designed Stunner grenade off her belt and tossed it at the wizard, just as he was about to hurl another volley of spells at her partner. The constable ducked back, smiling grimly as the grenade went off.

When the grenade’s crackling stopped, she whipped around the wall, submachine gun aimed at the fallen wizard. “Clear!” Briskly, Jules zip-tied the unconscious wizard, then looked for the crying child. She didn’t have to look far; a seven-year-old boy was watching her in awe from the room right next to the hallway. “Hi there,” Jules greeted, crouching down to be on his level. “My name is Jules, what’s your name?”

Sandy blond hair was cut short around the boy’s head and he regarded her with solemn brown eyes from behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m Aaron,” he replied. “Are you a cop?”

Jules nodded, reaching down and pulling her badge out to show him. “Aaron, do you know where the rest of your family is?”

Aaron bit his lip and shook his head ‘no’. “They took Mommy and Daddy somewhere else.”

“Okay,” Jules breathed, reaching out a hand. “Let’s get you out of here, Aaron, then I can see if my team has found your parents, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aaron replied, taking her hand as Jules pushed herself upright. The constable turned, frowning when she realized her Auror partner hadn’t caught up yet and it was quiet…too quiet. “Rachel?” she called, shuffling the boy behind her and readying her submachine gun. “You all right?”

The Disarming Charm caught her by surprise, sending her gun flying into the wall. Jules snapped her foot out in a kick as the wizard attempted to physically take her down. The wizard howled and returned the favor by backhanding Jules into the wall; she felt her headset fall off her head, but she had no time to retrieve it. The constable launched herself at her opponent, curling around him as she attempted a takedown maneuver.

The wizard went down, but just as Jules was about to finish the takedown, Aaron yelled, “Look out!”

Jules rolled just in time, feeling the whistle of wind past her as a spell missed her by millimeters. A second spell snagged at her belt; the belt flared pink as the protections activated. Jules swung both fists into her attacker’s chest as he tried to tackle her, sending him tumbling backwards. Scrambling to her feet, Jules grabbed Aaron’s hand and pulled him out a back door. Once outside, the pair raced for the trees. Jules paused long enough to see the two wizards who’d tried to jump her run out of the tent, searching for her and Aaron.

One hand fell to her belt and Jules grimaced; her radio was gone. The wizards turned towards the trees and Jules ushered her charge deeper into the woods. “Come on, we have to stay away from those guys long enough for my team to find us.”

Aaron sniffled, but nodded bravely.

Jules glanced back, searching for any signs of her teammates, but the wizards were getting close and she needed to _move_. The constable pushed Aaron to the left and around a thick patch of underbrush, but forgot to keep an eye out ahead. Several meters into the trees, the pair vanished into thin air.


	3. Faulty Information

Ed growled in outrage as he and Simmons arrested another three wizards, all of whom looked sullen, but unsurprised. He didn’t have to be a potioneer to know they hadn’t found even a _tenth_ of the stockpile that had been reported and the combined teams had already arrested _far_ more than twenty wizards, with more still on the loose. The acting Sergeant waited until he and Simmons were far enough away from the arrestees to be unheard before he hissed, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Simmons admitted, his expression grim. “The potions aren’t here and it looks like they were _waiting_ for us.”

“Any of your major players so far?”

“Just low-level thugs,” Simmons returned, his eyes narrowing as he spied another wizard. “Take that one down hard, Lane.”

Ed smirked, then moved, covering the tall, lanky wizard with his submachine gun and yelling, “Auror Strategic Response Unit! Hands in the air!”

The wizard dropped his wand as Simmons swooped in from behind, slapping a pair of runic cuffs in place on the wizard’s wrists. “Let’s go!” Simmons snapped, giving Ed a discreet signal and dipping to retrieve the fallen wand.

“Word, Simmons and I are falling back,” Ed called, his gaze steady. “We’ve got one of our major players.”

“Copy,” Wordy acknowledged. “We’ll keep sweeping ‘em up, Boss.”

“Go careful, Wordy,” Ed urged, uncaring that he was borrowing one of their Sergeant’s favorite phrases. Someone had to say it. He hauled their captive up as Simmons sent off several Patronuses to his wizards, then the two Aurors dragged their prize back to the rally point.

* * * * *

Simmons didn’t bother to remove the runic cuffs once he and Lane reached the SRU trucks. Instead, he spun his captive into the closest truck and slammed the dark-haired wizard into the metal as he growled, “You have thirty seconds to explain yourself, Patterson.”

The wizard blanched at Simmons’ tone. “What were you thinking Simmons, bringing the Muggles in?” he shot back, his dark eyes flashing.

Ed couldn’t help but notice that Patterson’s eyes were the liveliest part of the almost skeletal man who was even taller than he was. His face was pale and gaunt, with protruding cheekbones, his black hair was close cropped, and, although he wasn’t going bald, his hair was very thin. There was a wire-thin scar that ran under his eyes and, as one robe sleeve slipped, Ed spied another thin white scar that curled around Patterson’s wrist.

Simmons pushed harder, unconcerned about the undercover Auror’s physical condition. “I was thinking twenty wizards was a bit much, even for _my_ squad,” the Senior Auror drawled, “but this looks like a bit more than twenty and we haven’t seen your stockpile of potions yet.”

“He changed his mind, sent owls out to all the dealers,” Patterson explained. “It was after those Muggles stumbled in and I’d already sent one emergency message.”

Ed frowned thoughtfully. “So we’re sweeping up the dealers, not just the cooks?”

“Cooks?” Patterson echoed blankly.

“The potioneers,” Simmons snapped. “Try and keep up, Patterson.”

Patterson shot a dark look over his shoulder, then nodded. “Yeah, the dealers are here; some of ‘em spotted these Muggle trucks making tracks for the forest, that’s when Scholman decided to hide the potions.”

“Hide them how?”

“I don’t know,” Patterson admitted, finally losing a bit of his arrogant tone. “Wards, I’d bet, but what wards? Not a clue.”

Ed tapped his arm, thinking hard. “What about the family they caught?”

Patterson sighed to himself, slumping down. “Three people: two parents, one kid. The kid’s somewhere in the camp, not sure where. I don’t know what they did with the parents.”

That was when Sam’s voice came over the comm. “Ed! We just found Jules’ partner, knocked out in one of the tents!”

“What about Jules?” Ed barked, turning and pacing away from Simmons and their undercover.

“She’s gone,” Sam reported. “I’ve got her submachine gun and radio, and there’s signs of a struggle. Looks like someone hit her partner from behind with a Stunner, then tried to jump Jules. Got one more subject here, zip-tied and unconscious, but no sign of Jules.”

Ed thought fast. They needed Spike in the field to handle any explosive potions. But they also needed to find Jules as fast as possible. That left… Before he could speak, Wordy ordered, “Lou, get back to the Command Truck and start scanning for Jules’ phone. Ed, we’ll start looking for Jules on our end; I’m not seeing any more subjects anyways.”

“Copy,” Ed acknowledged. “I’ll let you know if Simmons is pulling his people back.”

“I am,” Simmons called. “I’ll let you keep half my wizards, but we need to get our arrestees rounded up and on their way to booking.”

The acting Sergeant grimaced, but Simmons was right. The sooner they got the camp cleared out, the sooner they could focus all their resources on Jules, the missing family, and any subjects who’d slipped the net.

* * * * *

Jules shivered violently as she glanced around. The forest looked the same, but that one step had felt like she was passing through a screen of frozen lard. Her Auror badge had warmed, too, so she knew she’d gone through something magical, but she wasn’t quite sure what. Aaron was pale and shaking; he’d felt it too.

“You okay?” she asked in an undertone, nudging him ahead of her.

“Mm-hmm,” Aaron replied. Then he shivered. “Cold.”

“I know,” Jules agreed, scanning the clearing they were getting close to. Spying a handy wizarding tent, she tugged Aaron towards it, drawing her sidearm, just in case. “Stay close,” she ordered, pulling Aaron inside the tent.

Inside, she blinked at the sight of several cauldrons, all lined up and bubbling away; stirring rods were moving through the liquid and knives were chopping up ingredients. A cabinet caught her eye and she moved towards it, pushing Aaron inside and ducking in herself. They hid just in the nick of time as a witch appeared from another area of the tent. The two watched as the witch hummed to herself, summoning dozens of vials from a box and extinguishing the cauldron fires with two precise sweeps of her wand. One cauldron lifted off the table, tipping with exquisite care over the first of the glass vials. Magic swirled, creating an assembly line of sorts as the finished potion was poured into the vials and a cork was thrust in afterwards.

The witch had emptied two of her cauldrons and was working on the third when two wizards – the same ones who’d tried to jump Jules – burst in. “What do _you_ want?” the witch demanded crankily.

“Two Muggles,” the first wizard snarled. “The boy and a woman.”

He lifted his wand and the witch smacked his arm down. “No detection spells near the potions!” she screeched. “Besides, I’ve been in here all afternoon and _I_ haven’t seen any Muggles! Go look somewhere else!”

The wizards scowled, but the witch harried them out, shouting angrily about the threat to her precious potions. Jules bit her lip to keep from laughing as the witch came back, grumbling under her breath about ‘idiot males’. The half-empty cauldron lifted into the air, tipping more potion out and the process continued until all six cauldrons in the room were empty. The witch nodded to herself, casting a spell that sent the unused vials back to their original box and the full vials to another box. A flourish preceded the empty cauldrons rising into the air, then they trailed after the witch as she headed back to the other side of the tent, to wash them out.

Jules slunk out of the impromptu hiding place and swung Aaron out as well. Moving quietly, Jules moved to the box with the full potion vials and snuck one out, tucking it into an equipment bag before pushing Aaron out of the tent. Glancing around, Jules picked a direction and headed deeper into the camp.

* * * * *

Lou hissed under his breath as he inspected his computer screen. “Guys, Jules’ phone is being scrambled,” he reported. “We’re definitely dealing with wards if they can block the phones.”

“Can you call her?” Wordy suggested.

For a moment, Lou blinked, then, sheepishly, he pulled up Jules’ speed dial and hit it. The phone didn’t even ring as it struggled to connect for close to thirty seconds. Finally, a message appeared: call failed. “No luck, Wordy,” Lou announced grimly. “No connection.”

Spike muttered something under his breath, then, louder, called, “That’s one drawback with the phones, guys. They’re good, but right now, they have to be specially programmed to bypass wards. That’s how we can call each other inside the wizarding world, but those wards have been around for _years_.”

Ed filled in the rest. “So, the phones can’t deal with wards they don’t know about?”

“Exactly,” Spike confirmed glumly. “Hasn’t been a big priority since we still have so much other gear that doesn’t work magic-side at all.” There was a pause, then, “Ed, all the potions I’m seeing so far are pretty harmless. None of them are what _I’d_ call recreational, so they must’ve had time to get their product squirreled away before we could get here.”

Lou frowned. “Why have harmless potions at all, Spike?”

“Smuggling tactic,” Sam growled.

“Samtastic,” Spike sang out. “You’re right on target. Hide the illegal stuff behind Grandma’s anti-wrinkle potion and they slip by unnoticed. At least, that’s the theory.”

“I’ll see if our source has any more ideas about _which_ wards we might be dealing with,” Ed decided. “Keep looking guys, Simmons says most of our major players slipped the net.”

“Hiding behind the wards,” Lou muttered resentfully, overlapping with Wordy’s rather sarcastic, “ _Wonderful_.”

“Exactly,” Ed grumped.

* * * * *

Jules moved as slowly and carefully as she could, unnerved by what she was seeing. Now that she was looking, there were potions _everywhere_ , most of them boxed up and ready for shipping. The constable made a mental note to avoid using anything that could cause sparks while in the middle of the potioneers’ ‘lab’ zone. She kept Aaron close as she glanced into tents and spied more bubbling cauldrons. Twice more, she tugged the little boy into a hiding spot as footsteps drew near, but fortunately, they were never caught.

The sniper had just altered direction to avoid a patrolling wizard when she heard a faint cry for help. Though Jules debated with herself a moment, she knew what she had to do. Cautiously, she guided Aaron in the direction of the cries, murmuring, “Aaron, I think I hear something. I need you to stay really quiet, just like you’ve been doing, all right?”

“Okay.” Trust shone up at her.

The two ducked past another patrol and around four more wizarding tents as Jules tried to track the sounds she was hearing. When they got closer, Jules realized that the person wasn’t inside a wizarding tent, but inside a smallish cave on the edge of the camp. Though the constable scanned for guards, she didn’t spot any near the cave’s entrance. Constable and boy made a dash across the open ground, then slipped inside the cave.

Aaron spotted the occupant of the cave first and Jules had to cover his mouth as he cried, “Mommy!”

The constable froze, listening for yells of discovery, then sighed and relaxed, letting Aaron go as his mother shot her death glares from the cave’s floor. “Aaron, we have to be quiet,” Jules chided.

“Sorry, Miss Jules,” Aaron apologized as Jules moved to his startled mother.

“Hi there,” Jules greeted, pulling her regular badge out. “Constable Jules Callaghan of the Police Strategic Response Unit. Who are you?”

“Joanna Connell,” the blonde woman sniffed. “Have you found Ricky?”

“Ricky?”

“My husband.”

“Not yet,” Jules admitted. “We’re a bit cut off at the moment, Mrs. Connell. I got Aaron away from the people running this place, but I’ve lost contact with the rest of my team.” She pulled a knife and started cutting the woman loose. “We’re going to have to keep our heads down until my teammates can find us. The people who tied you up, have they come back?”

“No,” Joanna gasped. “They just took Aaron and then dragged Rick and I into that camp out there. They separated us, but I heard one of them say that they needed to get everything behind the ‘wards’ before the ‘Aurors’ showed up.”

Jules nodded thoughtfully. The wizards hadn’t had time to do more than separate the family, which likely meant that Rick Connell was still alive. “Okay,” she decided, “I’m going to leave you and your son here and see if I can find your husband, Mrs. Connell. Once I do, I’ll bring him back here and we’ll try to get back to where my team should be.” With any luck, her teammates would show up at some point before that, but Jules couldn’t sit back and wait to be rescued.

The woman’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded bravely and gestured her son close, wrapping her arms around him and rocking him back and forth. Jules smiled at mother and son before turning and heading out of the cave, determined to pick up a few more potion samples on her way to rescuing Mr. Connell. _Come on, guys, I’m waiting on you._

* * * * *

Ed closed in on Simmons and Patterson, the undercover. Patterson still looked dreadful, gaunt and gray-skinned, but he seemed resigned to Team One’s presence. “Simmons, have your guys found these wards yet?”

Simmons shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied. “What about your team member?”

One shoulder hiked. “Lou thinks Jules somehow got past the wards; her phone’s locator is scrambled.”

Patterson made a noise that sounded vaguely like a laugh. “Rules out a _Fidelius_.”

The blond Senior Auror cast a look at Patterson, then grunted agreement.

Lane eyed the undercover, then questioned, “You know how long they’ve been using this spot?”

Dark eyes blinked in surprise, then Patterson leaned back, considering the question. “A couple months, at least, Lane. Why do you ask?”

“And how long’ve you been under?” Ed pressed, ignoring the return question.

“Close to a year, but I didn’t have enough trust to have this location until a month ago,” was the irked reply.

“What are you thinking?” Simmons asked, curiosity flashing.

Ed debated, still looking at Patterson. “Before you got that trust, did you hear any rumors about them switching brewing locations or anything like that?”

Silence fell as Patterson thought, his eyes flicking back and forth as he mentally ran over his entire undercover experience, weighing every word, every nuance. Ed never looked away from the wizard while Simmons moved far enough away to leave the two undisturbed as he coordinated the arrests.

Finally, Patterson looked up again. “No.”

Simmons returned, studying both of his fellow Aurors. “Lane?”

Ed’s voice was slow and careful. “If they were switching locations on a regular basis, then I bet Patterson here would’ve heard about it, even if they kept the exact locations quiet. That means they’ve been using _this_ camp for over a year.”

“Long term wards,” Patterson agreed, comprehension dawning. “They _invested_ in keeping things hidden, so even if their main camp was found, the potions and the major players could hide behind the wards until things cooled off.”

Simmons moved over to the nearest Team One truck, followed by Patterson and Lane. Briskly, he spread a map of the forest out, the invaded camp already marked on it. “We know that they had time to get most, if not all, of the illegal potions behind the wards before we arrived,” Simmons observed thoughtfully.

“Close enough that Jules might’ve stumbled in by accident,” Ed opined. “From what Sam found, she wasn’t captured, even if she lost her radio and submachine gun.”

“Which tent?” Patterson questioned, his glittering eyes on Lane.

Ed studied the map, but didn’t know. He stepped back and keyed his radio. “Sam, which tent did you find Jules’ radio in?”

“Southeast quadrant, close to the woods,” Sam reported instantly.

Ed nodded and stepped back to the map, indicating the location with a blunt finger. Simmons traced a line on the map with his wand. “Let us assume that the camp we found is entirely separate from the hidden area,” he observed smoothly.

“Still got a lot of ground to cover,” Ed pointed out; Simmons’ line covered a good share of the nearby woods. “And we can’t be sure where exactly Jules crossed the ward line.”

“True,” Patterson conceded. Looking to Simmons, he asked, “Are you calling in the curse-breakers?”

“I’ll have to,” Simmons replied. “My men aren’t trained to detect and bring down long term wards of this type.”

Ed grimaced. Calling the curse-breakers would take time, time Jules probably didn’t have. “Can we follow her? Cross the wards ourselves?”

“Lane, we have no idea what’s on the other side,” Simmons countered. “They could have a hundred wizards holed up behind the wards and we’d never know. I can’t ask my Aurors to walk into a potential ambush. Not when there’s another option.” He let his statement hang, then turned to leave. “I’ll send a Patronus in, ask for the curse-breakers to come as fast as possible.”

Patterson watched from the sidelines, not offering any observations of his own. Though his expression was somewhat sympathetic, he clearly agreed with Simmons’ position. Ed gritted his teeth, thinking hard. He couldn’t give up on Jules so cavalierly, he _wouldn’t_. No, they needed a way to track her, a way to follow her regardless of any wards that stood between them and his constable.

An idea dawned, so crazy and insane that it _just_ might work. Patterson arched a brow as Ed looked at him. “Yes?” the undercover inquired.

“Do you need to keep your cover intact?”

“No, it’s done. We’ve got enough evidence to bring them down.” Patterson’s dark eyes darkened even further, making him look even more skeletal for a moment, and he absently adjusted his robe sleeves to hide the scars on both wrists.

Ed grinned, just a bit. “Can you Side-Along Apparate a transformed Animagus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been awhile since I did a RL rant, but this one is just so _richly_ deserved. So! Yesterday (Thursday, July 18th, 2019), I discovered that DART is doing away with 31 Day paper tickets. Actually, to be more precise, I discovered that they'd _already_ done it. I found this out when I went to purchase one and the option was no longer available.
> 
> Now, one might ask why I didn't know this when I take DART to work almost every week day. How on Earth could I be so blind as to miss all the signs posted at my two usual stations...oh, wait, that's right. There _weren't_ any signs posted. No little warning message on the LEDs that show when the next train is coming or even so much as someone posting a type written warning note for commuters.
> 
> Because of this, I not only missed my usual train, but I had to go to the main DART station (Akard) to figure out what the heck was going on. This meant I was late to work (although only two people noticed, since everyone else seems to think 9AM means stroll in at 9:30 or later). Color this commuter very highly unimpressed and extremely _disinclined_ to put my financial information on my _cell phone_ for the quote, unquote, DART GoPass App. I know virtually everyone does it, but I'm one of those people who asks: what happens if I lose the phone? Or what happens if the phone gets hacked? Actually, given that most phones have a direct line to whomever makes their software, I consider any information on my phone to be fair game to the entire Internet. Which is why I don't put anything sensitive on it. Ever. 
> 
> Sadly, I'm stuck paying the daily rate for the rest of this month because of how GoPass works, but their card version, at least, is not tied to my cell phone, though I'm still extremely unhappy with whatever _genius_ decided we couldn't have 31 Day paper tickets any more. People do still use them, as I'm living proof of.
> 
> Thank you, gracious readers, for indulging this author in her rant. Please do not flame me about cell phone security; they track us, 100% of the time, even if we have location turned off - actually, I have heard that Apple will track location even with the phone _itself_ turned off and Android was built by one of the world's biggest advertisers. They know how many times we start our music players, record every word we say within range, and make Orwell's Big Brother look like a rank amateur.
> 
> Ahem. /End Rant /Step off soapbox
> 
> Thank you and I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter - as an aside, the slash commands are from World of Warcraft.


	4. Tracking Jules

Jane cautiously applied a new bandage to Parker’s injured wing, covering up the almost healed wound. Healer Reynold had informed her mother that ‘her griffin’ would be fully healed in another day or two as long as the bandage was changed once a day and his provided potion coated over the injury. Hazel eyes watched her as she worked, but the griffin never twitched anything more than his tail as she applied the final spell to keep the bandage secure.

“There,” Jane murmured. “All done.”

He thrum-purred his thanks and stood, cautiously extending his wings and flapping twice to test the bandage. The wind from the flaps pushed her hair back, exposing the scars that she’d been hiding under her long hair and bangs, but the griffin didn’t react; he occupied himself with inspecting his injured wing as she rearranged her hair.

A sound from behind her sent her flying behind the griffin to hide; Parker shifted, growl-hissing as a man strode into sight. The wizard halted, staring at the crouching griffin with his wings spread, then took a hasty step back. “Sergeant Parker?”

Jane peeked, then gasped softly. “Auror Patterson?”

Parker relaxed while Patterson gawped at Jane. “Miss Locksley?”

Embarrassed, Jane huddled in on herself; though she’d met Patterson before, he, like most of her mother’s Aurors, hadn’t seen her scars yet. She was surprised when Parker nuzzled against her leg and Patterson closed in, tilting her chin up to see her scars better. “They’ll fade,” the Auror whispered, then he offered a crooked, gaunt smile. “I have several of my own, Miss Locksley.”

Releasing her chin, he stepped back, turning his attention to the griffin leveling him with a glare. Parker rumbled a warning, his fur bristling as he adjusted his stance to be more in front of Jane.

“I suppose that’s my warning to behave like a gentlewizard,” Patterson quipped, though he reared back in surprise when the griffin nodded.

Jane giggled. “Was there something you needed, Auror Patterson?” Regarding him, she demanded, “And how long has it been since your last meal?”

Patterson waved the second question away, focusing on Parker. “Sergeant, Auror Constable Lane sent me to retrieve you.”

The griffin trilled a question, cocking his head to the side.

Awkward, Patterson fidgeted. “Auror Constable Jules went missing during a joint operation between the Auror Squad and your unit. We don’t think she’s been harmed or captured, but her current location is masked by wards and she’s lost her Muggle raydeo. Lane thinks you can find her.”

“What about the Auror Squad?” Jane questioned, propping her hands on her hips.

“Senior Auror Simmons is calling in the curse-breakers, Miss Locksley,” was the polite explanation. Patterson studied Parker. “Will you come?”

* * * * *

Greg glanced around at the hustle and bustle, then followed the gaunt Patterson to where Eddie and Simmons were conferring – arguing – about waiting for the curse-breakers to show up. As the two new arrivals drew closer, Greg heard Simmons snap, “You want me to risk going through Unplottable wards blind? I won’t do it, Lane! In another hour, we’ll have the wards down, _safely_.”

“And what are the odds that bringing the wards down sends all those illegal potions sky-high?” Ed demanded. “Even if it’s a slim chance, we should _still_ make sure Jules and the hostage family are safe before we bring the wards down.”

“And how, pray tell, do you plan on locating an entrance to Unplottable wards, Lane?”

Greg slid past Patterson and strode forward, his head high and his wings rustling, just a bit. When he reached Ed’s side, he made a sharp turn and sat down next to his constable, hazel gryphon eyes meeting Simmons’ shocked expression. Patterson caught up, morbid amusement wafting off him as he joined the party.

“One Animagus delivered, Lane,” Patterson drawled. “Next time, though, could you at least _warn_ me that he’s a griffin?”

Ed smirked; Greg covered his eyes and beak with a forefoot as Ed riposted, “He’s a gryphon.”

The gryphon **squawwwww-** ed a sigh at his constable’s antics, his tail flicking in both amusement and annoyance. Then he pulled his forefoot back down and gave Eddie an expectant look.

“Patterson give you the rundown?”

Nod.

“Okay, I’m gonna call Sam and Wordy in; they’ll take you to where Sam found Jules’ radio and gun.”

Greg trilled acknowledgement and followed Ed, his ears twitching as Eddie called their teammates in. Rather than wait for them, Greg lashed his tail into Ed’s side and bounded past him towards where his ‘team sense’ told him Sam and Wordy were.

Behind him, he heard, “Guys, change of plans. Sarge is coming to you.”

* * * * *

Greg growl-hissed as they reached the spot where Jules had been jumped. His ‘team sense’ was just as blocked as the phones were, but Ed had figured that before calling him in anyway. No, Ed was banking on Greg’s Animagus form being able to literally _track_ Jules. Greg was unsure if it would work, but he was more than willing to try his hand – or forefoot, as the case may be – at it. He ranged over the area carefully, sniffing and trying to differentiate between scents instead of magic. Magic was easy, almost natural; scents, not so much.

Then he got close to a small room to the side of the confrontation and froze. The scent was…young…and frightened. But it was mixing with another scent, older and more confident. His beak nearly brushed the tent floor as he sought to follow the two scents, but they melded almost immediately with two other scents, both tainted with…drugs? The drug scents were easier to track and he followed them as they overlapped with the first two scents. His team followed him out of the tent and towards the nearby trees.

Once in the trees, Greg’s head came up. The young, frightened scent and the older, confident scent had separated from the drugged scents. Or the drugged scents hadn’t been able to follow them. No matter. Parker ranged left, following the former scents, his tail lashing every so often as he moved. A sense of something else drew him up short and he automatically backed up, hiss-spitting at the opaque wall of magic in front of him; the shimmer of magic blurred the look of the forest as it hung between two trees.

“Sarge?” Sam questioned, one hand touching the gryphon’s tawny hindquarters; he’d backed into the sniper.

Greg glanced back to see that Wordy was just as perplexed. They couldn’t see it; he turned back, studying the mag… _magic!_ He could see magic in his gryphon form. He whirled and sidestepped to butt his head against Sam’s radio.

Confused, Sam detached the radio and held it out. Greg extended one talon and summoned up an old memory. Carefully, he tapped out the word ‘wards’ in Morse code on the radio’s hard plastic.

“Huh?” Sam asked, staring between his Sergeant and the radio.

“Wait, Sarge, do that again,” Wordy urged, moving closer.

Both constables watched intently as Greg tapped his message out again. Sam’s eyes widened. “Wards!”

The gryphon trilled and nodded fiercely.

Wordy whistled. “You can sense them?”

Greg tilted his head a moment, then lifted his forefoot up higher and covered his eyes a moment.

“See them,” Sam concluded, earning another nod.

Wordy keyed his radio as Sam clipped his back onto his belt. “Guys, Sarge found an entrance to the wards.” He listened a moment, then reported, “Ed, he can see it; I think he found where Jules crossed them.”

The Sergeant purr-trilled confirmation.

His constables listened a moment longer, then Sam drew in a breath. “I’ll go,” he murmured. Without waiting for an argument, he stepped through the wards.

“Sam,” Wordy sighed, shaking his head in resignation; Greg restrained his own response. After a moment, Wordy grinned. “Hear you loud and clear, buddy.”

Parker squawked approval of the radio test, earning a wry look. “Copy that, Ed,” the brunet constable announced, “We’ll wait for Spike, then go after Jules.”

It took a minute for Spike to arrive and the bomb tech wasn’t alone. Five wizards had joined the hunt. Their leader eyed Greg warily, but spoke briskly. “Simmons said he wasn’t gonna stop anyone who wanted to help look for your teammate. We’ll come through with you, then split so we can search the whole camp for that Muggle family.”

“Copy,” Wordy agreed. “Let’s move.”

Without any more delay, the group plunged through the wards and into the hidden potions camp.

* * * * *

Jules ducked behind another tent, slowing her breathing as she watched the two wizards who’d tried to jump her pass by. One of them waved his wand in a detection pattern; Jules’ eyes widened and she pulled her sidearm, but the spell failed to detect her. Instead, her armor seemed to blend into the shadows more and she felt a brief pulse of warmth from her gauntlets, belt, and boots. Once the wizards vanished around the next corner, Jules holstered her sidearm and drew in a breath.

Was the armor _hiding_ her from the hostile wizards? Really, even though they’d had the armor for well over a year now, they _still_ hadn’t figured out what all the armor could do. Same with the magical weapons. Jules ran a hand over the hilt of her sword; while she preferred her gun over the magical weapons and her bow over the sword, it was undeniable that the sword was the easier weapon to bring on a magic-side operation like this one. While she still wasn’t a swordswoman, the entire team had learned the basics for fighting with broadswords and the snipers joined Alanna’s archery classes whenever they had a free night or two.

Double-checking for any more patrolling wizards, she edged out from her hiding place. Seeing none, she hustled to the next tent and cautiously lifted the flap, wary of any occupants. As in the past six tents, there was no one inside; at least, no one visible. Jules ghosted in and located a box full of illegal potions; she squirreled one away in her equipment bag and headed back to the entrance.

She looked carefully, but there were still no patrollers in sight, so she hustled out and found a nearby patch of shadows. It was as she was debating her next move that she finally heard someone yelling for help. The constable steeled herself, then headed towards whoever needed help. With any luck, she was about to find Rick Connell.

* * * * *

Greg was grateful for the warmth of fur and feathers; going through the wards had been _chilly_ to say the least. Sam’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the wizards, none of whom looked particularly bothered by the cold from passing through the wards. Their leader glanced around, then informed Wordy, “We’ll head around the perimeter and see what we can find, Wordsworth.”

“Copy that,” Wordy acknowledged. “Keep in touch with Simmons, he and Ed can keep us up to date.”

“Not a problem,” the wizard replied before his group hastily moved out, staying as far away from Parker as they could.

Greg ignored the snub, though his constables traded dark looks. Instead, he flexed his talons as his ‘team sense’ finally managed to pin down Jules’ location. This close to possible subjects, he couldn’t voice his triumph, but he managed nonetheless with a soft snarl-hiss; he crouched, his ears pricking as he started prowling straight towards Jules’ distant location.

“Whoa there, Sarge,” Spike called, scrambling to get in front of Parker. “Not like that.”

“Spike, he’s got her,” Wordy argued, “Why _not_ go straight to her?”

“What part of ‘meth lab scenario’ do you not remember?” Spike retorted at once; Greg froze, his ears flicking back towards Wordy. Satisfied that he’d gotten his teammates’ attention, Spike continued, “We go straight to Jules without being careful and we could end up sending this place sky-high ourselves.” The tech shook his head firmly. “No, we keep following Jules’ trail. Only way to keep everyone safe, guys.”

Sam’s expression was both helpless and infuriated. Wordy didn’t look much better, but he was thinking more than Sam was. After a moment he sighed and nodded. “Copy.” He looked down at Greg. “Sarge?”

The gryphon nodded and padded back to the trail that had guided them to the ward entrance. Casting about, Parker picked up Jules’ scent, but also picked up the two scents that were tainted by drugs. The gryphon lashed his tail, then began to follow the trail leading towards and through the maze of wizarding tents.

* * * * *

The constables kept their weapons up and ready as their Sergeant tracked their missing member. Just as they reached the entrance to a wizarding tent, with Parker indicating that Jules had gone inside, Wordy’s radio crackled. “Word, Auror Squad’s picked up one of our major players,” Ed reported.

“Copy,” Wordy whispered back. “We’re following Jules’ trail. No sign of her so far.”

Sam moved to the edge of the tent flap, letting his submachine gun dangle on its strap as he gripped the fabric. An instant later, he yanked the flap open, letting his teammates charge inside.

Spike, in the lead, nearly froze as they came face-to-face with a witch in the middle of stirring six cauldrons at once. Even so, the bomb tech aimed his weapon and barked, “SRU! Drop the wand!”

She turned, lashing her wand instead; the closest cauldron leapt off its fire and the boiling liquid within seemed to hurl itself at Team One.

“Duck and cover!” Spike yelled, scrambling to dive out of harm’s way; his teammates followed.

_Clang!_

They’d forgotten Sarge; gryphon talons batted the red-hot cauldron away from Team One, spilling the potion within onto the tent floor as Parker screech-roared challenge, his wings flaring out as he voiced the eerie cry.

The witch screamed in terror as the gryphon advanced, snarl-hissing – his talons extended and his lion claws unsheathed. Sam circled around the brewing stations and cut off the witch’s retreat. “Drop the wand!” he ordered coolly, “Hands in the air.”

Sobbing in fear, the witch obeyed; she was zip-tied and hauled out of the tent as Wordy reported their catch to Ed.

They left the witch for the Auror Squad to pick up, then headed after Jules again. Spike waited until they were out of the witch’s earshot to clap their Sergeant on the shoulder. “Nice going, Sarge,” he cheered quietly. “Half-brewed illegal potion, that could’ve been bad, but you did great!”

Wordy grinned and Sam shook his head, a faint smirk flashing. “That’s our Sarge,” Wordy agreed, even as he kept his eyes open for more trouble.

But aside from a brief glance in Spike’s direction, Sarge did not respond to his team’s praise. In fact, if Wordy had to judge his boss’s emotions from his behavior, he would guess that Sarge was _unhappy_ with himself. Or maybe what he was unhappy with was the witch’s terrified reaction to the gryphon’s furious advance. Either way, Wordy had a feeling that Sarge was still blaming himself for not being super-human and controlling his Animagus form without a lick of magic.

* * * * *

Jules’ trail wound and wove, sure indications that she’d been intent on keeping herself and the young human she’d found safe. But with it twisting so much, Greg couldn’t see how they were supposed to catch up with Jules before she ran into trouble. And she _was_ going to run into trouble; the drugged scents were intersecting with Jules’ path far too frequently for his peace of mind.

Greg paused outside another tent, milking the moment as he debated his best course of action. He could do as Spike wanted him to do, but that put Jules and the hostages at greater risk. He could head for Jules in a straight line, thus disregarding Spike’s advice and potentially causing an even greater problem. Or…?

He padded on, still debating, then felt an almost whisper soft mental nudge. The instincts he’d been ignoring and suppressing prodded at him, offering up a third course of action. The Sergeant considered, then opted to go for the third option. He kept his head down, as if following Jules’ trail, then turned right, ghosting through a lane of sorts that led between two tents. His team followed, keeping quiet as they followed him.

Parker wound around another set of tents, careful to keep his talons from rubbing against each other and potentially causing a spark. He slowed his movement as the sound of footsteps reached his ears. As his constables caught up, he turned, smacking into Spike’s shins to keep the bomb tech quiet.

Somehow, Wordy caught his caution and held up a hand, signaling for absolute silence. The footsteps drew closer, then a wizard turned the corner, his head buried in what looked like a notebook. Sam moved, taking the wizard down before the man even knew he wasn’t alone anymore, much less facing cops.

Briskly, Sam frisked their captive, as the wizard sputtered indignation. “How _dare_ you?” he blustered. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Do we care?” Sam asked, reverting back to Master Corporal Braddock for a few seconds; his eyes hardened and his face took on the touch of glee every member of the Squib Squad sported when taking down wizards.

The wizard clearly recognized the look, for he squeaked and fell silent. Or perhaps it was the sight of the gryphon calmly regarding him that silenced the arrogant criminal. Greg padded forward now that the immediate issue was dealt with, ‘accidentally’ lashing his tail into the wizard’s face.

Wordy chuckled darkly, then reported their latest catch to Ed before they left the wizard trussed up and glaring at their backs.

Less than five minutes later, Greg scrambled up onto a cluster of rocks and started to follow his ‘team sense’. They were clear of the camp, so there was no longer any risk of setting off sensitive potions. He had to stop and wait for his team; they didn’t have a cat’s skill at climbing, nor the helpful built in talons and lion claws for gripping the rocky surface.

Nevertheless, in short order Team One was off again, picking their way over the rocks towards Jules’ position. Greg, in the lead, slowed as his ears caught the sound of yelling, overlaying the softer sounds of whimpers and crying. Even with his keen hearing, he wasn’t close enough to make out anything more than the noise.

He picked up his pace, no longer waiting for his team to keep up. Six strides later, he heard Jules clearly. “Strategic Response Unit!” she yelled, “Drop the weapon and put your hands in the air!”

Parker hurled himself forward, nearly running, right before he skidded to a halt, staring downwards in dismay. They’d found Jules all right, but his third option had put them at the top of a cliff…with Jules and her protectees at the _bottom_. And _just_ to make things even _better_ , Greg could see that Jules was pinned down behind a covering rock with a wizard hurling spells at her from the cover of the trees.

His teammates caught up as he regarded the situation. “Jules,” Sam gasped; he stepped forward, only to be yanked back by Wordy.

“Don’t be an idiot, Sam,” Wordy scolded, though his own fear for Jules was obvious on his face.

Spike summed up the situation, not a trace of humor in his voice. “So, who wants to be the first to rappel down the side of cliff in the middle of a firefight?”


	5. Falling With Style

Jules found Rick Connell trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and hoarse from yelling for help inside a tiny wizarding tent on the far side of the potion dealers’ camp. She might not have found him at all, but one of the wizards had left the tent flap partially open. Connell choked off another yell as he spotted her. He made an aborted attempt to scoot away from the constable; he’d mistaken her for one of the potion dealers. His brown eyes were wide behind his glasses and his blond hair, darker than his son’s, was tangled and messy.

“Easy,” Jules murmured, getting in close. “I’m Constable Jules Callaghan, Police Strategic Response Unit. Are you Rick Connell?”

For a moment, his eyes went wider, then her words sank in and he relaxed, relief coating his face and slightly stocky frame. “Yes,” he rasped, coughing as his throat protested the abuse. “You found my wife?”

“Yes,” Jules confirmed quietly as she pulled her knife out and quickly cut the man loose. “And your son.”

“Aaron? He’s okay?”

“He’s fine. I left him with your wife,” Jules confided. “Now, I need to get you to them so we can hunker down and wait for my team to find us.”

Confusion shone in Connell’s eyes, but he didn’t question Jules as she hauled him upright and steadied him as he swayed. When he was steady enough to walk, Jules led him out of the wizarding tent he’d been imprisoned in and started on the long, treacherous hike back to Joanna Connell’s cave.

* * * * *

The good news was that Jules managed to keep herself and Connell from being spotted during the trek back. The bad news was that one of the potion dealers finally remembered that they had a group of techie captives and came looking. Even worse, though Jules had time to thrust Mr. Connell into the relative safety of the cave, _she_ was pinned down behind a chest-sized rock _outside_ the cave while the wizard ranged through the tree line, taking pot shots at her as she tried to keep track of him.

“Give it up, _Muggle_ ,” the wizard sneered loudly. “No one is coming to save you.”

Jules refused to rise to the goading. “SRU!” she yelled, her voice carrying. “Throw your weapon on the ground!”

A Cutting Curse flashed at her and she ducked further behind the rock, wincing as chips of stone flew around her. She whipped up again, yanking her sidearm out of its holster. “Show me your hands!”

More curses flew, but, curiously, _none_ of the curses was capable of throwing off any sparks. Jules debated the reason, then smiled grimly. Ironically, the potions she and her teammates had come to find were acting in her favor; the wizard couldn’t risk an explosive spell so close to the camp.

Behind her, she could hear Aaron Connell crying in fear as his parents tried to calm him down, but there was literally nothing she could do to help. She still had a few grenades, but as long as the wizard stayed in the trees, she didn’t have a clear enough shot to throw a grenade _or_ shoot the subject. And while, in _theory_ , her sword was capable of deflecting curses, she wasn’t at a point where she wanted to _test_ that theory. Not yet, anyway.

Jules spotted the wizard darting out of the trees, heading towards the cave, and reacted at once; she fired at him, but missed as the wizard threw up a shield, ricocheting the bullet away from himself. The wizard retreated to the safety of the trees, far more wary now that Jules had demonstrated her skill and her weapon’s accuracy. Jules watched as he edged through the underbrush, making his way to an offensive location to start hurling curses at her again.

“Not bad, _Muggle_ ,” he taunted loudly. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up!”

“I can keep this up all day!” Jules retorted. “How about you put your weapon down and surrender? That’s a lot safer for _both_ of us!”

The subject chortled. “I haven’t gotten this far in life by giving up, _Muggle_!” he yelled, launching a fresh volley of curses.

Jules bit back a few choice words as the spells crashed around her, nearly activating her armor’s protective runes. Raising her voice again, she yelled, “Strategic Response Unit! Drop the weapon and put your hands in the air!”

A few seconds later, she heard rocks clattering nearby and assumed the wizard was trying to bring the cliff down or something equally outlandish. The sniper never looked up.

* * * * *

Greg swallowed internally. Jules was pinned down and it was only a matter of time until she ran out of ammo. To make things even _worse_ , the cliff was too sheer for his team to risk rappelling down; they’d be right in the line of fire and unable to protect themselves. The Narnian armor was good, but, frankly, Greg doubted it could keep its protective wards up against a barrage of spellfire. The armor had never been meant to take a concentrated beating; its strength lay in handling the odd curse that slipped through its owner’s guard.

The Sergeant forced himself to ignore the ongoing battle and inspected the cliff itself, searching for a spot his team could use for a rappel. That was when he noticed that a portion of the cliff, closer to Jules’ position, wasn’t nearly as sheer as the rest of the cliff. Instead, it sloped down towards Jules, though the slope possessed three large ridges that dropped sharply before leveling out again. It almost looked as if someone had stacked three plateaus on top of each other to form the larger slope, then tilted the end result downwards.

Greg regarded the slope intently, thinking as hard and fast as he could. If someone attempted to go down the slope and was able to _leap_ down the ridged areas, it looked doable. Maybe. If the jumper didn’t mind risking his neck as he dodged spellfire and risked a broken leg…or ankle…from a bad landing on any of the jumps. At the very least, a bad landing would result in a severely twisted ankle.

His instincts nudged at him again, chiding him for thinking like a _human_. Greg countered that he _was_ human, thank you very much. Wryly, his gryphon side smugly pointed out that he _wasn’t_ human at the moment. Parker froze, his eyes locking on the only possible route down. If he did that…he would have to jump…multiple times. And he couldn’t count on his wings to save him if he leapt wrong.

Mentally, he gulped and quailed. Jump? Off a _cliff_? He had a tough enough time whenever the mandatory tower climb and rappel training came up. This…this was ten times worse; at least when rappelling – either in training or in the field – he had ropes, anchors, _something_ to catch him if he slipped. Had his teammates to back him up. And he’d never, _ever_ done something like this before: what if he misjudged a jump, what if his wings dragged him down even faster than gravity would, what if he landed wrong, what if, what if, what if…?

Jules yelled and Greg’s attention shifted to her. He winced internally as his gryphon vision picked out cuts on her face from flying chips of rock. The subject wizard stepped out of the woods, laughing at his constable. If something wasn’t done _soon_ , Jules might not make it.

The gryphon slid back and away from his teammates without being noticed.

* * * * *

He eyed the edge, steeling himself. Talk about his worst nightma…no, not anymore. His worst nightmare was hurting his team again. Greg drew in a breath and charged, racing for the edge and refusing to let himself think about it. He pushed off the first ridge, spreading his wings automatically as he fell towards the next slope. A screech-roar rang out as he extended paws and talons for his landing…

* * * * *

Wordy’s head snapped around at the gryphon’s cry of challenge. His yell caught in his throat as he stared in horror. He must have made _some_ sound, though, because his teammates looked up and followed his mute point at their Sergeant. Their terrified of heights, stuck in his gryphon Animagus form – with crippled wings – Sergeant.

* * * * *

His wings and tail feathers adjusted automatically, as if they really _could_ fly; though he was falling, it wasn’t like a rock. Talons and paws shifted just a touch, ready to absorb the impact, and then he was down and pushing off again, running for the next ledge.

_Bring it on._ He wasn’t afraid, he was too intent and focused to be afraid; he had to reach Jules before it was too late.

* * * * *

Sarge hit the slope, his wings still extended as he landed, though they snapped back and angled themselves to be more aerodynamic as the gryphon launched out of his crouch. He pushed forward, running for the next jump off point. His muscles bunched and stretched under his fur as he ran. Below, Jules had withdrawn behind cover as spellfire kept her pinned down.

In the next instant, the gryphon reached the second jump and leapt forward, his crippled wings extending; the twist of his wings forced him downwards, but he was already extending his legs for the landing. His tail feathers flexed, slowing his fall just a touch. Spike’s eyes narrowed as their boss landed again and raced even harder for the third jump.

“Spike?”

“His wings,” Spike murmured, “They’re giving him more control over his landings.”

“How’s _that_?” Sam hissed.

Before Spike could answer, the Sergeant hit his third jump. He threw himself forwards, as if he _wasn’t_ afraid of heights, as if he pulled stunts like this one every day, and his wings swept outwards once more. The world seemed to slow and Wordy saw the wings twist, adjusting smoothly to catch the wind for best advantage. Crippled the gryphon might be, but he still had the instincts of a flying predator. As Wordy watched, he saw: the wings were flaring and flexing forward, just as a jetliner's wings opened up and extended as the jet approached a landing. The outer third of the wings, the crippled area, was forcing Sarge down, but ironically, that was giving Sarge more control over _where_ he landed.

“He’s falling with style,” Wordy whispered, a hint of awe in his voice.

* * * * *

He landed heavily on the rock in front of Jules, his wings still extended as his legs crouched to absorb the force of impact. The subject wizard gawped, stunned by a gryphon literally falling out of the sky and landing between him and his target. Greg snarled, deep within his chest, baring the fangs hidden inside his beak. The wizard’s wand came up and Parker sprang, soaring through the air one final time.

He landed on the wizard’s chest, driving him back and down, slamming him into the dirt and grass. Though the wizard didn’t lose his wand in the fall, Greg didn’t let him keep it; a quick slash with his talons sent the wooden instrument spinning out of reach. Fear rose, in a thick stench that Greg was both repulsed and intoxicated by. His gryphon instincts clamored, demanding that he _deal_ with the threat to his Pride, to his humans.

For a moment, just a moment, he teetered on the edge of doing it, of finishing off the wizard underneath him. Terrified of heights, he’d let the gryphon instincts handle most of the work and now they sought to control his reaction to his constable’s attacker. But there was a crucial difference between the gryphon who’d woken in McKean and the gryphon who now crouched over a disarmed subject – a human mind and soul, rather than pure animal instinct.

_No._ Greg shifted back and twisted to the side, curling his talons to keep from inadvertently injuring the subject. Balancing on his rear paws, he rested one foreleg on the subject’s chest and leaned forward to spread the talons on his free forefoot out on the ground for one additional point of balance and control over how much weight rested on the captive wizard.

It took a few more seconds, then his ears flicked back to hear Jules’ quick approach. She circled around, then called, “Got him covered, Sarge.”

The Sergeant glanced up just a bit to see Jules, a bit pale, but resolute as she held her weapon at the ready. He began to shift back, then the wizard sneered, “Muggle _@$#*%!_ ” Casual, the gryphon leaned forward again, ‘accidentally’ resting more weight on the subject’s chest. Well out of the subject’s line of sight, a feathered tail curled in smug satisfaction.

Jules quirked a grin. “Not a good idea to insult the Auror holding you at gunpoint,” she observed. “Sarge, really, I got him.”

Greg held his position a moment longer and pointedly snapped at the subject, his displeasure with the wizard clear. Then he shifted back and removed his bulk from the potion dealer’s chest. Jules flipped the wizard over and knelt on his back as she cuffed him. With the subject safely restrained, she looked up at Parker, then over him at the slope he’d come down.

“You _do_ know Wordy’s going to kill you for pulling a stunt like that with an injured wing, right, Sarge?”

Greg hiked his wings in a makeshift shrug and looked back himself to watch as his team scrambled down the cliff with their rappelling gear. Seeing _just_ how far he’d dropped made the gryphon shudder, but he was also amazed that he’d managed to do it at _all_. A sound drew his attention to the entrance to a cave and Parker winced at the sight of a techie family, all of them staring at him in shock, awe, and no small amount of fear.

Jules waved the family over with a smile. “It’s okay,” she called, “My team’s here.”

Parker shifted his gaze away from the family, moving his head just enough that it looked like his attention had moved elsewhere. In truth, he _was_ still watching the three, shocked all over again because there was no sheen of magic around any of them. Yet Jules, who _also_ didn’t have an ounce of magic, had a very clear glimmer of magic around her: a pink hue that outlined his constable’s compassion, her protective nature, and her innate discernment of others.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when the little boy came right up to him, but he was; the boy’s approach caught him off guard enough to jump, just a bit. “What is he, Miss Jules?”

Greg **squarr-ar-ar** -ed in amusement; Jules had another conquest under her belt. Jules smiled at the boy, pretending not to notice her boss’s chuckle. “Sarge is a gryphon, Aaron.” Now she did glance at Greg, silently asking permission. At a subtle nod, Jules asked, “Do you want to pet him?”

“Yeah!”

The rest of Team One finished their descent down the cliff as Aaron reached up and petted Greg’s feathered head; the Sergeant held perfectly still for the young boy, not even flicking his tail for fear of scaring either Aaron or his parents. The parents looked _very_ leery of the wild animal, but Jules had gained their trust enough that they didn’t protest.

“Jules!” Sam called as soon as he was close enough.

Greg’s head turned towards his constable and he rumbled a warning, though Sam didn’t seem to catch his meaning. The blond sniper hurried over, scanning Jules for any more injuries besides the cuts on her face from flying chips of rock.

“You okay?”

Jules smiled, just a bit. “No harm,” she returned. “I knew you guys would find me.”

“Thank Sarge,” Wordy advised. “He led us right to you.” The acting team leader shot his Sergeant a disapproving look as he finished, “Though I think he took a _shortcut_ or two.”

Greg didn’t even flinch. Yes, he’d detoured off Jules’ route, but he refused to feel sorry for his actions. It had all worked out, even if he’d scared himself half to death in the process. Jules shook her head at him, then turned back to the family she’d rescued. “All right, let’s get out of here.”

“Sec,” Spike requested, lifting one hand to his comm. After a moment, he nodded. “Copy, Ed.” He paused, listening a moment longer then reported, “We’ve got Jules and the missing family.” To the rest of them, the bomb tech explained, “We need to backtrack to where we got in, guys. Looks like Ed was right.”

“Right about what?” Jules asked as Wordy took the subject in hand and the group began the trek to the camp exit.

The bomb tech glanced at the family, sighed to himself, then replied, “Simmons wanted the curse-breakers to drop the wards around this place before coming in.”

Jules winced. “Let me guess. Ed suggested that might set off all the potions?”

“Yep,” Sam confirmed as the path sloped upwards.

When they reached the edge of the camp, Wordy signaled a halt and waved Greg forward. “Anyone sneaking up on us?”

Gryphon ears flattened at the thought, but the Sergeant couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. He listened intently and scanned the tents, then shook his head and stepped back.

“Mommy, can I ride him?”

Startled, Team One turned to look at the excited little boy tugging on his mother’s sleeve. The woman was crimson. “No, Aaron, you _may_ not,” she scolded. “Would you ask to ride on a police dog?”

“But _Mommy_ ,” Aaron whined, a high-pitched note to his voice that Greg flinched at. The kid was about to start screaming, he just _knew_ it. Sure enough, Aaron’s chin was quivering and even the potion dealer in Wordy’s grasp was trying to edge away from the inevitable explosion. Gryphon ears folded at the first wail from the exhausted, stressed little boy and it was just as well that they weren’t trying to sneak around anymore.

The young mother struggled to sooth her son, but Aaron’s wails just increased in volume. Even his father couldn’t get the preteen to behave; his face was scarlet as Team One and the potions dealer discreetly moved away. Greg couldn’t quite help his whimper-whine as the volume racked up higher. Reluctantly, he butted his head into Jules’ side; when she looked down, he adjusted one wing to grant access to his back and gave her a pleading look.

Jules bit her lip, glancing between her Sergeant and the screaming Aaron. Softly, “Are you sure, Sarge?”

Parker nodded once, though he was sure that Jules could see his unhappiness and resignation. An even louder scream made him flatten his ears as much as he could and he cast his subordinate another pleading look.

“Okay,” Jules breathed, before heading over to Aaron. As the boy drew breath to wail louder, she cut him off. “Aaron! You can ride on Sarge if you stop screaming.”

The screams cut off instantly and Jules was subject to a lethal glare from Aaron’s mother. “You’re _rewarding_ my son?”

Jules met the glare calmly; while she understood the mother’s position, she didn’t care. “We need to get out of here and your son’s screaming is hurting Sarge’s ears.” So saying, she hauled Aaron over to her Sergeant and swung him aboard. “Aaron, _no_ screaming. One scream and you’re _off_ him, understand?”

“Yes, Miss Jules,” Aaron confirmed, grabbing hold of the gryphon’s feathers.

“And don’t pull on his feathers, all right?” Jules coached.

“Uh-huh.” Aaron sat straight, as if he was riding a pony, not a gryphon, and dug his heels into Greg’s sides. Parker was _not_ amused and he pointedly didn’t move until Wordy did; the acting team leader radiated disapproval as he hauled their captive towards the exit.


	6. We Choose You

By the time the group made it back through the wards, Aaron had pulled a fistful of feathers out of Greg’s back and kicked the Sergeant over a dozen times to ‘go faster’. Greg’s lack of reaction meant the little boy was kicking him as hard as he could, as if, by kicking harder, Aaron could get the faster speed he wanted. The young boy had also loudly demanded an actual _flight_ , a demand that Team One wisely ignored rather than responding to. The whole of Team One was looking forward to passing the family off to be interviewed and taken home; even the sympathetic, easygoing Jules was thoroughly annoyed at Aaron’s behavior and tempted to yank him off of Parker’s back.

Simmons and Patterson were waiting next to the team’s trucks, along with Ed and Lou; the latter two gawped at the sight of a blond little boy riding on their Sergeant’s back, while Simmons just sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Dare I ask?” he inquired in a tired tone as Team One came to a halt in front of him and eagerly surrendered the potion dealer.

Sam grimaced. “It was the only way to keep the kid from screaming all the way out,” he replied bluntly.

Greg squalled as Aaron yanked a flight feather from one of his wings; the boy giggled as he held his prize up.

“Okay, that’s _enough_ ,” Wordy snapped, hauling the child off without asking. “Jules told you _not_ to pull Sarge’s feathers and don’t think I haven’t noticed all the kicking you’ve been doing, kid.”

Wordy set the pouting Aaron down in front of his parents and unapologetically snatched the feather back. “That’s mine!” Aaron protested.

“No, it is _not_ ,” his mother interjected firmly. “It was very nice of Officer Callaghan to let you ride on Sarge and she _did_ tell you not to pull on his feathers.”

Simmons grunted. “Wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway.”

Ed wasn’t any happier with the pint-sized brat than his teammates, but he objected with a stern, “No _Obliviations_ , Simmons. It’s not _their_ fault they ran into a group of criminals and ended up in this mess.”

Patterson’s voice was icy. “You’ve worked with us long enough to know how things work, Auror Lane.”

Greg sidestepped to be more in front of the family and growl-hissed at the two wizards.

Jules took a different tack. “You can charge the potion dealers with breaking the Statute of Secrecy,” she pointed out. “And take testimony from the Connells about what they saw while they were in the camp.” She let that hang a moment, then added, with a bit of a bite to her words, “Besides, how is this any different from a tech-born’s family finding out about magic or how _we_ found out about magic?”

Patterson’s expression was sheer outrage and Simmons looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon. The blond Auror sighed heavily and waved Patterson silent, just as the undercover Auror started to bluster. With an expression of distaste, the Senior Auror pulled a sheaf of parchment from his robes and looked directly at Greg for an instant before he shifted to Ed. “Ordinarily, Auror Lane, it wouldn’t matter how loudly your team protests, the law is the law.”

“But?”

The sheaf of parchment was offered and Ed took it, keeping his eyes on Simmons. “Unofficially, the Head Unspeakable has authorized your team to override the Statute if you deem it necessary.” Simmons glanced at Jules. “That means Auror Callaghan is correct, we _can_ charge the potion dealers with a severe breach of the Statute of Secrecy.”

“You usually wouldn’t?” Wordy asked, surprised.

“Some of them are purebloods, from prominent families,” Patterson interjected.

Rather than immediately respond, Ed looked to the Connells. “Sir, Ma’am, it’s your choice. There’s going to be a lot of people who won’t be happy with you if you decide to testify against your kidnappers.”

Mr. Connell was pale, but resolute. “But that’s the only way to…”

“To keep your memories of today,” Ed explained unhappily. He gestured to the two wizards. “Their world spends most of its time hiding from ours.”

The couple withdrew to discuss their options and eventually decided that, yes, they _would_ testify against their attackers. Simmons called another one of his Aurors over to debrief the family, then shooed Patterson away to get a good meal and some sleep.

He eyed Ed for a moment. “I figured you’d just give them a pass.”

“While I’d love to,” Ed retorted, “We _are_ Aurors and we need to respect the laws of the wizarding world if we’re going to do our jobs. All of them.”

“This way,” Wordy opined, “The wizarding world gets something out of letting the Connells keep their memories.”

Simmons inclined his head respectfully. “Fair enough,” he murmured. He glanced down at Greg. “I can arrange for Sergeant Parker’s return to Madame Locksley’s estate, if you want?”

Sam chose that moment to pipe up. “Actually, could you have a Healer check him over? He, uh, pulled a stunt in the field.”

“A stunt?” Ed demanded. “What _kind_ of stunt?”

Spike spread his hands in a helpless gesture and quipped, “Oh, you know, Ed. Jumping off cliffs, sliding down ledges, tackling subjects in a single bound, that sort of thing.”

Ed’s expression shuttered and he shifted his blank expression to his boss. “That true, Greg?”

The gryphon cringed, but nodded.

Less than a second later, Mount Lane erupted. “Greg, are you _insane?_ ”

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Greg was _more_ than happy to let the newly arrived Healer inspect his wings. Once Ed had calmed down, Wordy had taken a few verbal swipes of his own at his boss. The rest of Team One hadn’t joined the ‘fray’, but Greg had gotten the _distinct_ impression that his team wasn’t happy with the risk he’d taken. With any luck, that would make it easier for them when he formally handed the team over to Eddie and retired.

The Healer tugged harder at Parker’s wing, drawing an annoyed look from the gryphon, then Greg went back to plotting. Yes, hopefully with his retirement, Toth would stop hovering, just _waiting_ for Team One to slip up. He’d have to wait a while before his next move: encouraging his _nipotes_ to spend more time _out_ of the apartment than _in_ it, but at least his team would no longer be at risk from his gryphon instincts and behavior.

Simmons turned up as the Healer finished his examination. “Well?”

“Whatever stunt he pulled, it didn’t hurt him,” the Healer reported, adjusting his glasses. “I saw a bandage, but the injury’s healed up nicely; you can barely even tell he was injured in the first place.”

An intent look was cast in Greg’s direction. “Aside from his wings, did you find _any_ injuries at all?”

The Healer considered, eyeing Greg’s wings, then he shook his head. “No, nothing, Senior Auror Simmons. Have to say, I’m surprised you’ve got a _griffin_ this well trained.”

Simmons smirked sardonically, but didn’t explain. “Thanks for looking him over.”

“Not a problem. I wish all my patients were this easy.”

When the Healer was gone, Simmons gestured for Greg to follow him. “Up to you, Parker,” he remarked. “Easy enough to change you back before your team leaves or we can wait another day.”

Greg hurried to catch up. Once he’d drawn even with the Auror, he butted his head against Simmons’ wand arm.

The wizard snorted. “Does that mean now?”

The gryphon nodded firmly.

Simmons drew his wand and waved it, causing his small bird Patronus to appear. He spoke to it a moment, then it flew away. “Fair enough, Parker, can’t say I blame you,” the blond Auror drawled. “I’ll set it up.”

* * * * *

Wordy shifted anxiously; Simmons had _insisted_ on waiting until most of his guys were gone, which meant Team One was still hanging around the scene close to three hours after they should’ve packed up and headed back to the barn. Sarge was lying just inside the tree line, his head down on his forelegs as he waited patiently. The rest of them weren’t _nearly_ as patient; they wanted their Sergeant back, _yesterday_.

Sure, Ed had stepped up and done a great job, but he was the team leader, not the Sarge. Even Jules and Sam, who would have to hide their relationship even _more_ once the Boss was officially back, were eager to have him back. For the rest of them, it wasn’t even an issue; _all_ of them wanted things to go back to _normal_. Or at least as close to normal as their motley crew ever got.

The crack of Apparition drew the team around to see Giles Onasi, toting a small bag. The Auror came over, his expression just a bit uncertain. “What’s the bag?” Ed questioned.

Onasi shrugged. “Parker’s still going to be in McKean prison robes,” he explained tentatively. “I dropped by your station to let Commander Holleran know what was going on and he suggested I bring along a change of clothes.”

Jules’ expression was approving, while the men were all a touch chagrinned. None of them had thought of that particular complication. With a tiny grin, Jules took the bag and asked, “How do we do this?”

The brunet Auror looked towards the Sarge, who’d joined the group and was watching Onasi intently. “Well, I’m hoping the Animagus reversal spell will work. That’s what I’ll try first anyway.”

* * * * *

Greg stood as calmly as he could. His team had given him and Giles plenty of room, though the Auror’s anxiety was crystal clear. The Sergeant suspected that the reversion _wasn’t_ going to be anywhere _near_ as easy as Onasi had made it sound, but it had to be done.

Drawing in a deep breath, Giles angled his wand and ordered, “ _Animus Invertio_.” A blue-white pulse flew from his wand and struck the gryphon head-on.

For a breath, nothing happened, then Greg felt his body tingling. The tingles spread rapidly and he cringed in anticipation. The first bone gave with a loud _snap_ and pain filled his awareness as more bones rapidly followed suit. He swallowed the yells of agony that longed to be let loose, but _did_ let himself collapse down, panting hard as the pain built to unbearable levels. Just as before, the pain abruptly shifted to a heat coming from within his bones, _melting_ them from the inside out. His body spasmed as the bones reformed and he could _feel_ his fur and feathers ripple before they faded into nothing. The wings collapsed in on themselves, blending into his back and he wasn’t sure _what_ happened to the tail, but it was gone in moments.

The agony stopped, but his entire body ached, as if he’d gone through a compactor or something equally pleasant. The Sergeant couldn’t even muster up the energy to move as his teammates closed in, worry radiating through the ‘team sense’. Dull hazel eyes shifted up as Ed and Wordy hauled him to sit upright on the ground.

“Sarge?” Spike questioned, hovering anxiously.

“I’m here, Spike,” Greg sighed. “Just…” He paused. “Tired.” It wasn’t a lie; exhaustion was pounding at him, right along with the throbbing pain that seemed to come from the marrow of his bones.

“He’s probably hurting, too,” Giles offered up. “I hear the first transformation is the _worst_ for Animagi.”

Team One glanced at their Sergeant, who tilted his chin down, but had no intention of moving any more than he had to.

Ed debated a moment, then gestured for Sam to take his spot. Once Sam had Greg braced, the team leader headed off to the side to pull his phone out and make a few calls. His first call was to Commander Holleran.

Holleran picked up at once. “Constable Lane?”

“Sarge is back, but it took a lot out of him,” Ed reported briskly. “He might need another day or two.”

Though Holleran’s voice was disappointed, his reply was to the point. “All right, Ed, you’ll stay as acting Sergeant until Parker comes back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ed clicked off and located Sophie’s speed dial. The phone rang twice, then picked up. “Eddie? Something wrong?”

“Soph, I’m okay,” Ed reassured his wife. “We’re wrapping up and getting ready to head back to the barn.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject, but Sophie beat him to it. “But there _is_ something up, isn’t there?” his wife inquired shrewdly.

“Yeah,” Ed admitted, letting out a breath. “Greg’s back to being human, but he’s beat and the kids aren’t even staying at the apartment right now.”

Sophie considered. “And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll call Shelley,” Ed replied honestly.

Silence hung for close to a minute as Sophie debated the matter. “Next two off-shift days you do _alone_ ,” she finally proposed.

Ouch. “Done,” Ed accepted, deciding that was fair enough, particularly when he was hoping to head off Greg’s guilt trip. “Might take another hour or two to get home, Soph.”

“Eddie, if you can…pick up chicken?”

“Got it,” Ed agreed. He was fine with buttering his wife up a bit. He hung up and headed back to his team, unsurprised that Greg was still on the ground. “Okay, guys, Sarge comes home with me. Word, you and Shelley can keep the kids another night?”

“Sure thing,” Wordy confirmed.

“Ed, you want two of us to get your street clothes from the locker room and pick up the truck?” Sam offered.

Ed debated; it was a _very_ attractive offer, particularly since he would be able to take Greg home and pick up Sophie’s favorite fried chicken on the way. Finally, he nodded agreement. “Sounds good.”

* * * * *

Clark helped him get Greg out of the truck; though the exhausted Sergeant did his best to help out, he was too drained. Less than a minute after Ed and Clark got Parker down on the sofa bed, he was asleep, curled up like his Animagus form and a faint grimace of pain on his face.

Ed headed back out to the truck and retrieved the chicken fried dinner for Sophie and Clark. He was hungry, too, but his stomach was twisting and churning after seeing his friend magically forced back to human form. Slowly. Painfully. Greg hadn’t screamed, not like he had in McKean, but Ed was sure that was due more to Greg knowing what was coming than because it had hurt less.

The doorbell drew the team leader up and he headed for the door, cracking it open to see Sam and Jules outside. He frowned inwardly, but pushed the door out to let the two inside. “How’s Sarge?” Jules asked, even as she stepped through the door.

“Sleeping,” Ed replied. “Clark and I barely got him in before he was out.”

Jules looked rather disappointed at this news; Sam thrust the dufflebag for Ed’s armor at him, explaining, “I put your clothes in there, Ed. That way you can bring the armor back tomorrow.”

“Ed?”

Ed arched a brow, then nodded at Jules.

“Could you give me a call when Sarge wakes up?”

For a moment, the team leader’s eyes narrowed, then his expression lightened. “Sure thing, Jules.”

* * * * *

Ed opted for a text instead of a call when Greg woke up in the wee hours of the morning. Then he found a bottle of pain pills, tipped two into his hand, and poured a glass of water for his boss. Quietly, he headed out into his living room and crossed to the sofa bed, offering the water and the pills.

“Thanks,” Greg murmured, taking both and swallowing the pills down.

“How you doing?”

A faint smile. “Well,” Greg remarked, sipping at the water, “It doesn’t feel like my bones were forcibly removed and then shoved back inside anymore.”

Ed winced at the vivid image and moved to turn a light on. Without looking at his friend, he asked, “So, how hard do I have to whack you over the head _this_ time?”

Greg stiffened. “I hurt a member of my own team, Eddie. I almost killed him.”

“And?” Ed deliberately kept his tone nonchalant while he turned and found a seat.

A disbelieving look was cast in Ed’s direction. “Isn’t that _enough_?”

“Enough for what?” Ed countered. Oh, he knew perfectly well what his Sergeant was trying to drive at, but he had no intention of making it _easy_ for Greg to wriggle himself out of the SRU. His phone buzzed and he glanced down discreetly. With a smirk, Ed drawled, “Hold that thought, Greg.”

At the front door, Jules was alone; Ed pushed the door open and shifted out of her way. “Thanks, Ed,” Jules whispered. “Is he better?”

“A little,” Ed granted, though he gave the team’s backup negotiator a significant look.

She grimaced. “That’s what I figured,” she murmured.

“We could let Lance take a run at him,” Ed offered.

Jules shook her head. “No, Ed, I think this time needs to be _us_. He’s afraid of losing control again.”

Ed stopped in his tracks. He’d focused on the obvious. “Thought it was about what he…”

“Almost did to Wordy?” Jules finished. “Sure, Ed, that’s a big part of it; why do you think he’s freaking about losing control?” She was silent a long moment. “But that’s not all of it, Ed. You didn’t see him after you got shot; he was completely out of control and he _knew_ it.”

Oh. The team leader didn’t argue as he led Jules into the living room, though he noticed that Greg had slumped down a bit at the sight of Jules following him. The Sergeant attempted to rally with a wry, “Fancy meeting you here, Jules.”

“Hey, Sarge,” Jules returned. She studied him, then glanced at Ed before she questioned, “Mind if I just get it out in the open, Sarge?”

Wariness flashed in the exhausted man’s eyes, but he nodded permission.

“This isn’t about Wordy,” Jules stated flatly. “Or anything else that happened at McKean.” She let that hang a moment, then drew in a breath. “This about you being afraid of your own magic, Sarge.”

Greg jerked, a trapped look flashing across his face. In a soft voice, he inquired, “And how do you reach that conclusion, Julianna?”

Jules held up one finger. “Your ‘team sense’,” she began. “We all know it’s part of your magic and what happened during the Wilkins escort.” Ignoring her boss’s fidget, she continued, “You _hate_ violating our privacy, Sarge, and the ‘team sense’ does that in spades. Even now that you’ve got a better handle on it, it still does that. Your first piece of magic and it goes and does something that you _hate_ and, to top it off, you couldn’t control it at first.”

The Sergeant hung his head. “Yes,” he admitted.

A second finger. “Tied into the ‘team sense’, your enhanced hearing and vision. They might not be that bad by themselves, but for you, they’re the biggest reason you can’t just turn your ‘team sense’ off and pretend it never existed in the first place. Not to mention the week you spent walking into walls and doors because you couldn’t _control_ your senses.”

The slightest of cringes and a silent nod.

Jules lifted a third finger. “And now, you’ve got _actual_ gryphon instincts to deal with. Or maybe I _should_ say you’ve _been_ dealing with them since Ed got shot.” A wry smile crossed her face as she regarded her boss – who refused to look up at her. “Believe me, Sarge, we noticed what was going on that day. If Toth knew you any better, he’d have caught it, too.”

“I should have taken myself off duty,” Greg whispered.

“No.”

The Sergeant’s head snapped up and he stared at his subordinate in shock.

Jules shook her head. “Sarge, you weren’t perfect that day, but _none_ of us were. You think you were the _only_ one that wanted to go straight for that guy’s throat? You think you were the _only_ one who wondered whether it was worth it to save someone who tried to kill a cop, a _friend_?”

The answer was obvious, but Ed could see his boss still wasn’t buying it. “And McKean?” Greg pressed, a shiver in his voice. “Because of my _magic_ , I nearly killed Wordy!”

“Wrong.”

Ed smirked as attention swiveled to him. “Greg, the problem wasn’t your _magic_ , it was that you didn’t _have_ your magic.”

Hazel eyes widened.

The team leader kept going. “You told me, at least two weeks before we got arrested, that you’d lost the ‘team sense’ and your enhanced senses, that you thought your magic was gone.”

Jules gasped softly, one hand coming up to her mouth as realization bloomed.

“Greg, you _were right_ ,” Ed hissed, keeping his voice low. “You _didn’t_ have your magic, not even a flicker.”

“Then where was it?” Jules asked, puzzled.

“Roy,” Ed explained. “Boss saved his life, but somehow his magic attached to Roy; that’s why the time freeze never stopped.”

The pieces fell together. “So, when Sarge was forced into his Animagus form…?”

A dawning hope was in Greg’s eyes as his team leader nodded firmly. “No magic, so Sarge didn’t have any control at all.”

“And he gained control as soon as he got his magic back,” Jules breathed.

Ed grinned, but Parker slumped down a bit, his gaze lowering again. “Greg?”

Keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, Greg replied, “Ed, if it wasn’t _me_ , then how do I remember it?” Squirming, Parker admitted, “I remember _all_ of it.”

Jules edged in close. “Sarge? What do you remember about when Lance fell into you?”

Greg frowned, thinking hard. Slowly, he related, “I remember him landing on me. I remember trying to get away, but the magic wouldn’t let me.” Slowly, his eyes widened in shock. “I remember waking up and wondering why I wasn’t in the cell block any more.”

Sitting right next to her boss, Jules rested a hand on his shoulder. “Sarge, don’t you see? It wasn’t your fault and your magic’s _nothing_ to be afraid of. You’re not going to lose control again.”

“You can’t be sure,” Greg countered.

Jules shook her head and pushed her boss hard enough to temporarily throw him off balance. “Yes, I _can_ ,” she retorted. “You don’t get to walk away, Sarge. Not like this.” She smiled brightly as Greg looked at her. “We chose you, too, Sarge.”

Confusion flared, but Ed chuckled, drawing his teammates’ eyes up. “She’s right, Greg,” the team leader drawled. “We _all_ chose each other and that includes you, Boss.”

It took a minute, but Greg finally gave his subordinates a faint smile. “Okay, you win. I won’t do anything drastic yet.” At their looks of slight disappointment, Greg shook his head. “I’m too exhausted for anything more tonight.”

Ed winced and nodded, gesturing Jules up. “Sorry for keeping you up, Greg.”

Greg found another smile. “I know you, Ed. You didn’t want to risk missing your chance.”

The team leader didn’t argue with his boss’s perceptive remark. “Sleep as late as you want, Greg. Sophie’ll take care of you.”

“Copy.”

Ed waited until he and Jules were at his front door. “You did good, Jules.”

“Thanks, Ed.”

Jules reached for the door knob and halted as Ed pushed against the wood. “I’m still not happy with you and Sam.” She swallowed and nodded. “You know better,” Ed added, looking the shorter woman in the eye. “I can’t stop you two from doing what you’re doing.” He ignored the fact that Jules suddenly found the floor incredibly interesting.

“Are you going to tell Sarge?”

Ed snorted. “If you think he doesn’t already know, you’re fooling yourself, Jules. Magic or no magic, he’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to miss the way you two act around each other.” He let that hang. “But no, I’m not going to tell him. Then he’d _have_ to do something and none of us would like it.”

After a minute, Ed shifted back. “Okay, I’ve talked to both of you. That’s the end of it, for _now_. But if you bring Sarge and this team down, then what I said to Sam stands.” She cringed, just a bit. “We clear?”

“Clear,” Jules agreed as she pulled the door open. Before she left, she looked up at Ed. “We _won’t_ bring the team down, Ed, I promise.”

He let her leave and closed the door behind her. Then he shook his head and headed back to bed. The worst part of it was, she really _did_ believe what she’d said. But he’d done what he could for one night. Carefully, he eased in next to Sophie and wondered what the future held…for all of them.

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fade to black... Whelp, Greg's back to being human, so we're heading in the right direction, eh?
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed; as always, I appreciate any and all comments. In the meantime, the next episo...story, "Fear of Self" will kick off on Friday August 2nd, 2019.


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